#I gave her my cheekbones bc I never do that! >:)
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Cross The Line (Prologue)
« Doing something outside the bounds of acceptable behavior. »
Mina x gn!reader
synopsis - being a regular at urgent care raises suspicions but apparently also temperatures which results in the blurring of a few lines
wordcount - 1.5K
T/W - mentions of diverse injuries, stitches, and the hospital obviously. resident!mina, patient!reader angst but also fluff that’s not really fluff bc its just angst disguised as fluff. yearning if you will.
A/N - i made my research after writing🧍♀️girlie is NOT supposed to be alone with the patient but oh well. we’re here for the plot. happy mina day to all who celebrate!!
Mina’s movements were calculated. Precise, and accurate. She never let any room for the unexpected. It was too dangerous.
Her attention was consumed by the monitors, checking and writing down any anomalies she deemed important enough ahead of your transfer to a surgical unit. You’d come in with an open wound on your cheekbone, and pain in your arm which she quickly found out was a fracture in need of surgery.
She was known to be effective, eyes sharp and catching any detail that dared try and escape her. Like how your heartrate slightly increased on the monitor when she came in earlier, or the way you looked at her whenever you landed in the building.
She tried to ignore the familiar sense of déjà-vu washing over her, but her questions kept increasing in number. She never knew the reason behind your visits, but the nature of your injuries gave her a few clues. A broken nose, scratches, cuts and open wounds, hematomas… Five visits in the past two years, an unusual average, enough to leave an imprint on any Resident.
Something about you was odd. It pulled at a curiosity she’d vowed to ignore unless in name of the patient’s wellbeing, and you were especially good at tempting her.
For whatever reason, she was the one assigned to your case for every one of your visits. A twist of fate maybe. She’d call it incredible bad luck if she hadn’t grown that damn soft spot.
As frustrating as tending to you could be, the hours it took to do so allowed her to get a glimpse of the person behind the entire Unit’s favorite gossip column. Though that glimpse remained very surface leveled.
You were incredibly hard to read through your blatent lies, and it scared her. It made her see through herself more than she probably ever could you.
In short, she was attracted to you.
“What are you thinking about?” Your voice was soft despite the slight rasp in your throat. It almost made her forget about her surroundings.
“Nothing.” She cleared her throat, tearing her eyes away from your figure as fast as she’d found it.
You chuckled, your mind a little fuzzy from the local anesthesia. “Come on, we’re past that.”
Her fingers halted their motion against the clipboard in her hands, something you barely noticed but still had the strength to smirk at. It wasn’t hard getting a reaction from her, but it was hard to catch it.
You smiled to yourself, closing your eyes as the effects of the anesthesia lingered. That was something you usually kept to yourself, and Mina’s attention didn’t fail to catch that detail either.
"You know, it’s getting hard to believe you're not getting hurt on purpose." She sighed, pushing her glasses back up her nose.
"I would never break a bone on purpose.” You mumbled, wincing slightly as you adjusted yourself on the examination table. “Hurts like hell…"
"Thought you'd be a little tougher," Mina remarked in a tone that pushed your eyes open.
It was colder than you were used to. Icy and slippery.
"Yeah, well… we all have our limits, Mina." You replied quietly.
"It's still Dr. Myoui to you.”
You nodded, pursing your lips apologetically. The words would have pulled a laugh out of you if they’d ever come out of anyone else’s chest, but you knew better around her.
"What happened this time?" She asked, and the question surprised you. A glance at her eyes, now on you only out of respect, and you found out it wasn’t her own will.
Don’t be difficult, they begged. So you played along.
"Fell off a skateboard," You responded with as casual of a demeanor as you could.
She stared at you in silence, leaving you a few custom seconds to see if you'd tell her the truth this time. Instead, you offered her your best smile, and she had to hold her own back. "Do you even have a skateboard?"
"Do you need that information to treat me?"
"Just wondering."
"You seem to do that a lot…" You trailed off, leaving the words hanging in the air.
Mina left that as the last of them to be spoken for a long while, turning her focus onto some more medical nonsense you could never decipher to save your life.
Maybe that’s why your eyes always landed on her.
She could feel them, following her every move around the room, and it was hard not to meet them.
A silence you were used to settled, the quiet hum of the room fading into the tension hanging in the air.
You feigned interest in your hospital bracelet to escape it, but the sight of your own name made you look away from it. The blank ceiling was enough to distract you, but only for a moment.
Not staring at her was an effort you struggled to make even with a sound mind. The first time you’d seen her, it took you a full minute to blink. It had pulled a smile out of her, and the words she used to point it out echoed in a blurry memory.
How safe you felt in her hands that night, you sought the feeling ever since. In vain.
Your gaze bore into her, merciless against the composure she desperately tried to hold on to. Each of your visits tested it in a way she had yet to see. To feel. She would resent you if she doubted your intentions. If she doubted her own.
"How long until it's not anymore?" Your voice broke the silence, startling Mina into meeting your eyes again.
This anesthesia seemed to guide you into an uncharted territory, where the boundaries of her professionalism blurred, seeping through her fingers with your every word.
She seemed lost in the place your words had suddenly lured her into, so you offered some guidance.
"How long until I can call you Mina?"
The question lingered in the air, pulling at the veil you’d draped over your desires.
It seemed you were close to baring them, Mina exposing a glimpse with a soft bite on her bottom lip.
You’d sculpted a fragile bridge. Cracked and vulnerable to the slightest movement. You enjoyed dancing around it, but one wrong step and it all comes crumbling down.
Mina hesitated, eyes avoidant and voice soft as she stepped forward. "Maybe once you don't get hurt anymore," she murmured.
This wasn’t the first dance she invited you to. It was rare, you weren’t used to it, but you’d rehearsed enough to guide yourselves through it.
“You know, I'd love to see you somewhere else. Outside these walls, preferably," You confessed in a whisper, wary of the thin curtains separating you from the bustling building.
Those almost slipped her mind. You could tell by the silence that followed.
She put her clipboard on a free space of the table, far enough away to keep it from becoming an obstacle. Her hands reached for your injured cheekbone, carefully examining the cut she’d stitched moments ago.
A breath caught in your throat at the touch and attention, long enough to bring a few changes to the data displayed on the screen not too far from you. A change she didn’t fail to notice yet again as she went to retrieve her notes.
A quiet laugh escaped her lips, catching you off guard. You could only watch her write down whatever conclusions she’d pulled out of her observations, waiting to see if it was safe to carry on.
“Do you feel any pain?” She asked.
“Uhm...” You hummed, focusing in order to identify any pain other than the one in your heart. “Slightly. Now that you mention it.”
Mina nodded and carried on with a bunch of questions about your well-being. You answered all of them honestly, words leaving your mouth without much thought.
“Do you feel lightheaded? Any dizziness?”
“No.”
“Are you feeling thirsty, or hungry?”
“A little thirsty.”
“Can you tell me your name and where you are right now?”
“My name is Y/n, and I’m in… at the urgent care.”
"Where would you like to see me?"
Her voice had dropped a couple decibels on that one. It took a few more seconds for you to sink it in and match an answer.
"Somewhere a little more… colorful?”
Wait…
Your eyes left the spot they’d blankly focused on on the floor to find hers still ignoring you.
“I mean… I don't know, I didn't think that far," you admitted, complying to her silent wishes.
Mina let a smile slip, a rare sight that let you peek at the depth of her feelings, and her thoughts allowed her to fantasize about the world outside. The one she could share with you. "That would be nice," she admitted softly.
Your smile mirrored her own, "So… Is that a yes?" you probed, and she chuckled, ignoring your question once more as she wrapped up her duties.
Just then, a couple nurses stepped into the room, asking Mina to take you away for the transfer you were long past due for.
Your arm was in a far worse state than your face. Or your heart.
"See you in three months, Y/n.”
-
part.2
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your thoughts are loud
pairing: obi-wan kenobi x reader
summary: you, padme’s top advisor, can’t sleep, and neither can obi-wan.
warnings: none
author’s note: i disappeared off the face of the planet for over a year bc i was in my first year of law school. somehow i survived and realized i needed a hobby. so i’m revisiting my writing and dumping this here. please be gentle, i haven’t seen the prequels in a while bc my friends won’t watch them with me, and i haven’t seen the show yet either. also would anyone like this to become a series? where it’s this kind of pining but with other characters in different fandoms? pls let me know bc I’d love the feedback. much love.
suggested listening: ‘moonlight serenade’ by glenn miller
“Your thoughts are loud.”
You jumped at the sound of his voice, posh as ever but a little rough some sleep. “I didn’t mean to wake you. And what are you doing in my thoughts?” The question came out with a laugh, knowing Obi-Wan well enough that he wouldn’t get in your head without permission.
He looks down and chuckles softly. “You didn’t wake me. I couldn’t sleep, and I just heard them.”
“Dare I ask why you couldn’t sleep?” You slid over on the small stone bench, trying to make some room for him.
He cocked his head slightly, pondering, almost hesitating. But he walked over to you and sat down, tugging his robes closer around him. “Anakin, mostly. Concerns for Padme, sometimes.” A whisper, “concerns for you.”
You tried to shut your thoughts out. You couldn’t, however, helped the heat that rose to your cheeks. “Concerns about me?”
“Yes, concerns for you,” he said. “I know how the Senators are with you.” He folded his hands in on one another in his lap. ‘And I don’t like how they are with you.”
You sighed, finally looking at him, seeing his eyes trained downward, not chancing a look at you. “Obi-Wan, they’re Senators, it’s to be expected. Things are going sideways fast, and they’re all just doing what they can to try and manage it. And sometimes, it just happens to get let out onto others.”
“I don’t like it when it gets let out on you. Especially because I can’t say anything to them.”
He glanced towards you, then upward, focusing on the limited night sky above him. Somehow, you managed to look at him, though, tracing the sharp curve of his jaw, the soft structure of his cheekbone. Although your shoulders touched, you wanted to reach out and place a hand on his shoulder, on his cheek, on something. But you didn’t, and frankly you couldn’t. Even the night’s spell couldn’t make you forget his status as a Jedi Master or yours as Padme’s advisor. Your respective positions had rules, a Code that kept you from one another. But It didn’t keep the others in your charge from one another, you thought.
Padme and Anakin were careful, but you and Obi-Wan knew them better, and knew it hadn’t taken long for them to start seeing each other. In fact, on the few missions to Naboo when the Jedi visited, you often stood as cover for Anakin, ready with a plausible story for when Obi-Wan came asking. You talked Padme through the ups and downs of being with a Jedi, through the long periods of not seeing each other. And she spoke with you about Obi-Wan, not one to be lost on forlorn looks and wishful thinking. Being friends for so long gave her an insight into your thoughts, and knew how your tied your fingers together when Obi-Wan was near, how you could never look him in the eye when he looked at you with his piercing blue eyes.
It took one look for her to read your thoughts, and it was on a night like this, when you sat out in the open with Obi-Wan, where you were grateful he didn’t read yours. Because you reached for him, a gentle hand on his arm, drawing his skyward gaze back to you, looking at you like he pulled some of the stars from of the sky with him. “But I know you would say something if you could, and that’s enough.”
He reached for you too, a shaky hand holding your own, cerulean eyes locked with yours. “But it isn’t enough.”
“Obi-Wan, I …”
“It isn’t enough,” he said, grip tightening around your hand. “It isn’t enough, because I can’t tell them to leave you alone without them wondering what a Jedi wants with you. I can’t say anything because then I’ll come out sounding like Anakin and they’ll all wonder where the professional version of me went.”
He turned to you fully, reaching for your empty hand with his remaining one. He leans in closer, and you mirror him, afraid that if you don’t, then his words will escape into thin air and it’ll be as if you never heard him. And he needs you to hear him, to understand.
He continued, “And then they’d know that the professional version of me never exists around you. That something changes, and I don’t know how to describe it.”
You shook out a breath, terrified of moving too suddenly. He can sense your nervousness, you know he does, when he starts circling his thumb gently across your knuckles. Your eyes dart between his eyes, looking for any sign of his confession being a joke, some cruel joke. But there’s nothing there, except the calmest gaze, the warmest shade of blue searching your eyes for a reaction.
“Thank you,” you whispered.
I love you, your heart screamed.
“Obi-Wan, that means, well, more than I can put into words. But the thoughts are there,” you paused. “If you want to feel for them.”
It’s the first time you’ve offered something like that to him, something that personal to anyone. You can see the hesitation, but it doesn’t take you long to feel him, tendrils of his Force signature wrapping around your mind. You close your eyes, not wanting to see his reaction when he reaches the part of your mind that yearns for him, that aches. He’s there for a while, strolling through, taking his time with you, and it’s in this hike through your mind, that he wishes you could see into his more.
After a pregnant pause, he squeezes your hand, leading you out of your haze, eyes crawling back open. When he sharpens into focus, there’s a content, mischievous smile creeping up his face; his shoulders relax, and you don’t need to be Force sensitive to feel the utter relief radiating from him. You both have finally gotten a lifetime’s worth of confessions off your chest. And where it goes from here, neither of you know. But this is different, and you aren’t afraid of finding out.
The beginnings of dawn creep over the horizon, spilling streams of gold light onto both of you, where you both remember that other Jedi might be beginning to stir. So you stand, hands still intertwined, and you pull him up with you.
“We have to go,” you begin. “Before someone sees.”
He smiles, a full smile now. “Let’s get you back to bed then.”
It’s a silent walk back to your quarters in the Senate building, and Obi-Wan holds your hand the whole time, not even starting to drop it when you think someone is going to round a corner and spot you. He’s unafraid, and so are you, and it’s so unlike either of you, but in the early light, neither of you have it in your to care. When he stops at your door, you both fight smiles and whisper proper goodnights, and you force the want of him staying the rest of the night back down your throat.
When you are finally back in your quarters, as disheveled as they are, curtains still drawn tight, you will to him a promise of ‘later, you’ll find me later’. And it is a whisper, a fleeting feeling through your mind, but you know it’s him willing back, ‘I’ll always find you.’
#obi wan#obi wan kenobi#obi wan fluff#obi wan x reader#obi wan kenobi x reader#obi wan kenobi x y/n#obi wan kenobi imagine#obi wan fic#star wars fic#star wars fanfiction#star wars x reader#star wars#star wars prequels
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TW/ mention of rape (nongraphic by a priest) and the Native Genocide
In Honor of Indigenous Awareness Month here's a quick overview what my life has looked like being Indigenous
My parents didn't raise me Native, bc they were told that being white was better. So I didn't have much other than just the dreamcatchers on the walls and some stories my Grandma told me.
It wasn't until I had a dream about some ones funeral the night they passed in their sleep that Grandma told me it was bc of me being Native.
I didn't know what that was supposed to mean. I didn't know what that meant to me.
Flash forward a few years, I've had a couple dreams here and there but more-so I've been hungry. I'd been searching the internet, searching books, asking my grandma questions. Information, correct information at that, was hard to come by. But when I found the right sources, oh boy was there so much. Everything was so vibrant, everything felt familiar. It was more interesting than learning about the Greeks in class, any history lesson, any religion less, it was full and enticing and beautiful, but we never learned about it. Because the U.S. would rather let something this beautiful be swept under the rug rather than admitting to a genocide.
I'm more into my culture now. My family is more into my culture now. I'm learning my language. I've connected with new relatives.
I will never forget the day that my Grandma told me she was proud of me for making her and the family better.
I've been having more dreams. My spirit guide (a black indigenous man who when i first met offered my a drink at a bar) always warns me when something bad is about to happen, or I'm making the right choice about a big decision.
But I've been laughed at for my name. Nobody can say it right.
I cannot register for enrollment in the tribe, despite my Grandma being full blood. It just so happened that my Grandma's parents were from two separate tribes, and the Blood Quantum only takes one. Thats why I don't count, even tho I have that blood from my mother's side, and some extra from my Father, who is mostly yaqui but was adopted.
My relative said "you know what horses, dogs, and Indians all have in common"
The government requires them to have a pedigree
No white person ever knows what a blood quantum is. I have to explain it. It's current and active genocide.
Nobody knows about ICWA. I wrote my final paper on it. My professor gave me a personalized note saying that he thinks that I'm going to go places, and that was one of the best essays he got. He could feel my passion through the page. My people are dying.
When I said a Native prayer because I was showing off how much I had learned, a acquaintance started making nonsense noise at me, making fun of the way I sounded.
When I smudged at a Halloween Party because some people wanted me to help protect them for evil, some people started laughing that I was doing witch craft.
The first tag that pulls up when I search Native is "#Native Women"
I'm three times as likely to get sexually assaulted. Not by other Native people. By White people.
People don't say I look Native. But if you look for more than one second, that's wrong. I get pale in the winter but really dark in the summer, like a lot of Natives. My face is Native. I have my mother's cheekbones. I wear my weight like a every Native I've ever seen about my size. My hair is dark. My eyes squint when I smile. I was always told to take photos again and again bc I was blinking. I didn't know that was a Native thing. My Grandma said people don't think I'm Native because they're so stupid they'd only realize if I wore a beaded headband and a ribbon skirt.
I have to explain and ask teachers all the time if they know something they are showing in class is racists. Sometimes its a yes, and we'll talk about that, or a no, but can you talk about that. My brother who is 13 was never taught about what happened to the native people, and only knew because I told him. I've always have had to know, because nobody else does.
I left the church after the curtain was pulled back. My Grandma who is 70 was forced into a Catholic School when she was young. The priest raped the girls
I was told never to go to the reservation. My mom remembers it as poverty, going to the salvation army and picking up clothes. My grandma remembers it as the place where she was an alcoholic, and she's fought to stay sober for more than half her life now but that only started when she left. My Aunt remembers it as the place her mama got beat by her good for nothing White Ex Husband.
I have no representation. All the old shit is always racist. I'm used as a figure head at sports and as decorations, I'm not human to them.
Nobody admits the Genocide is currently happening.
My sister was pulled in without her permission to the front office with no warning to talk for morning announcements how's she just like the rest of the white kids despite being Native. They gave her a script. Then afterwords they had the audacity to ask for a photo of her in her childhood doing 'native things'. Mom laughed and said she should've told her she didn't have any photos because she was "just like them".
I realized school was never for me, because I was always learn better the Indian way.
Whenever I see a Native person in the wild, and they notice me, there is already a bond there. If I asked them for anything, to talk, for a ride, they would give it to me. If they did so, so would I. My native friends i met in college I adored like they were my cousins.
I've learned that despite me being raised white, I was actually raised Native. My parents give and give and give. They give to the community, their lives are dedicated to help people. That's the Native way. We bleed compassion, and if someone in my community needs my last 5 bucks, they'll get it because I know someone else in my community will help me to not starve, and when they are starving I'll help them too.
Please listen to Native people. Here's to Indigenous Awareness Month.
#mine#text post#native american#indigenous#activism#native american history#native american rights#native pride
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What happens when you read The Raven King for the Nth time
My mission this reread was to read throughoutly instead of devouring the whole trilogy in a day and I spotted some fun stuff!
[TFC] [TKM]
Does "smoky gray gaze" means Allison has gray eyes or is it some metaphorical way to say her eyes were clouded?
Wymack never straight up tells Andrew what to do (about serious stuff) and knows to ask him instead. that's why he does as he says, bcs he has the option to.
Neil walks around with a watch and if he weren't so cheap I'd say it's one of those bulky multitask sporty ones
They say a few times that "Andrew is the only one who didn't bet in x" and Kevin lost a bet to Nicky which tells me Kevin Day is very likely participating in multiple of the foxes betting pools
Neil talking about passport stuff and "technology changing fast" and all I can think about is that he and Mary must have hated all the extra security after 9/11
All the reasoning Nicky uses in the clothing store for Neil being gay also applies to Andrew. how didn't he ever notice? Did he just think Andrew was souless and frigid?
Andrew really enjoys sitting cross-legged anywhere he can. It must've been mentioned at least 3 times.
The fact that Andrew can just skip his dose at night to "wind down" makes no sense to me like. He doesn't go through withdrawal just because he'll be sleeping soon?
Neil: obsessively researches Kevin and Riko. Also Neil: only recognizes Jean for the 3 on his face
The Ravens walk in a V and then make a bully circle in the middle of the court and the other teams are just. hanging around i guess?
"Kathy gave me your glass as a souvenir. All it took was a smile and a kiss. It seems she is growing up to be quite a cougar." I... had always interpreted this as Riko filling her with pleasantries and a kiss on the cheek but... was it a KISS kiss??? Like? For real?
Katelyn introduces herself to Neil AFTER the fall banquet which tells me this gremlin just followed Andrew's lead and ignored the girl for hours lol
Tilda was neglectful to Aaron since the beginning, but only started to hit him when they found out about Andrew (13)
"I don't know why the hell Andrew's foster family told him [that both twins were given to adoption but Tilda only came back for one]" I bet it was Drake
Kevin never smiles, but he does to Neil when they score on the Ravens
Neil can identify a cop by the way he walks. ACAB king
Players have to stick to school colors on their racquets but can pick different designs. How much do you want to bet that Riko and Kevin had personalized ones?
I had forgotten that it wasn't just Wymack witnessing Neil shove Andrew's hand under his shirt. Kevin, Bee and two lawyers are also there.
They make a nest to sleep together after Baltimore, but it wasn't the first time: after Drake they sleep on the girl's dorm together too (minus Aaron and Allison)
Tetsuji has an actual house. Out of the Nest.
He also doesn't walk around with his cane in public.
"He was less ready to see the "4" tatooed on his left cheekbone." I'll take the quotation marks as a confirmation the tattoos are in arabic numerals and not roman.
#didn't get anything too surprising on this one#ig because tfc is the one i usually pay the least attention to?#aftg#all for the game#the foxhole court#tfc#aftg reread#the raven king
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'thotiana is a long story' you have my attention
oh man thotiana lore INCOMING
ok so back in 2018 my boyfriend and i had a brief simultaneous obsession with the song thotiana by blueface, this was largely due to a single tiktok of some grilled chickens dancing to said song which had a truly absurd grip on both of us. at the same time he had soft-moved into my apartment bc he (justifiably) hated his roommates at the time and during that process his ps4 ended up in my living room, which i took as an invitation to start playing bloodborne because i absolutely love bloody gory fleshy eldritch horror
this is when thotiana was born.
thotiana was my first earnest soulsborne character, i had tried dark souls a few times before but i was REALLY bad at it bc i had no idea what i was doing, so i just made very generic characters for it. i was DETERMINED to be good at bloodborne though, so i decided to actually spend time on my character and make them unique. i decided to name them after the song i was indescribably obsessed with at the time.
thotiana was the result. i spent over an hour in the character creator perfecting thotiana.
thotiana, in all his splendor, looked about like this:
thotiana was the most wretched, accursed man in all of yharnam. his chin could cut the moon in half. his stats were terrible because i insist on being a magic main in every soulsborne game even though it's the worst fucking strategy every time. thotiana barely beat the cleric beast and could NOT get past father gascoigne. thotiana was never destined to live.
i abandoned thotiana shortly after creating him because i deeply hated fighting father gascoigne. it did not occur to me to try a non-magic build. but two years later, after i had moved across the country, i decided i wanted to git gud and actually beat a soulsborne game, so i fired up dark souls 1, which i had owned for five years but had never made any real progress in. as soon as i reached the character creator, i knew what i had to do.
this is when thotiana ii was born
thotiana ii was the scrawniest, palest bitch in the history of lordran. she rivaled the crimson chin for the title of most prominent chin ever. she was a pure mage in a game that is extremely hostile to mage builds. she looked like a lizard. i deeply wish i could find screenshots of her but i just spent a hot minute looking for them and couldn't find any. suffice to say she had no business existing. she defeated gwyn, lord of cinder and linked the flame.
she was reincarnated in dark souls 2, and so thotiana iii was born
thotiana iii was even more wretched than her predecessor, and the same was true for thotiana iv in dark souls 3. (thotiana iv actually never finished her journey -- the thotiana lineage is one of mages, and the two princes fight in ds3 is extremely stacked against magic users). thotiana v was summoned into the lands between during my second playthrough of elden ring, she is a frenzy mage and absolutely terrible at everything
the sixth and current iteration of thotiana is the man pictured above -- my boyfriend gave me his ps4, the very same on which the original thotiana was created, after he got a ps5, but because of the way psn accounts work i had to get my own copy of bloodborne and start from scratch. this thotiana (just thotiana, not thotiana vi) is a recreation of the original, designed with as much precision as i could manage four years after the fact. he is actually a viable character because i'm halfway decent at these games by now, but he carries the spirit of his namesake in being an absolute wretch.
thotiana is an absolute fixture in my life. every time i start a new game that has a character creator, i create a new iteration of either thotiana or cheekbones mccoy (my other cursed character from mass effect, i think i have a few pictures of him on here somewhere). the thotianas are one of the few constants in my life and they will always be there to haunt me. i adore them. long live thotiana
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when i was like 6, i used to act like my brothers and copy everything that they do bc that's what boys did. like i fully thought i was a boy. but i was always given rly girly things which i wasn't opposed to but i was like. um. well, he's not playing with this. but ok. then third grade happened and i started really having a disturbance with my name and who i was and who i was being perceived as. a lot of crying and a lot of attempts to change my name and be known as someone else none of which worked. i was like eight around that time. then i repressed it. i had to just do what i was told. i'm very scared of adults yelling at me. this was around the time my mom got like physically mad with me every time i 'gave her attitude' somehow at eight years old. she was threatened by a third grader. but anyways. i spent every year after that just filling a role i didn't want to fucking do. everything 'gave me away'. my cheekbones, my chest, my voice.
now i'm more picky; now it's my collarbones, my jaw, my chin, my eyes. and it's not like i'm even transitioning physically right now. even though i really fucking want to. but i always felt like i was. like people don't know that i'm really a boy bc all these things give me away. i go by they them be i don't pass at all. i'm too fat to bind my chest, my voice is too girlish to speak with so i never talked in class or in any social setting. i literally disguised myself as much as i fk could while also never doing enough because i didn't cut my hair, and then add on my """girlish""" features that 'gave me away'.
i legit hate living like this and who even knows if i'm going to be diagnosed with gender dysphoria and who knows if any of this is going to be fucking legal within the next five years
i don't even want to like come out to my mom again, shes just gonna say it's trendy right now and it's bc of the internet when no? i have been feeling this way since 6 years old??!!?!? whatever dude
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spontaneous Riza sketch be upon ye (ノ ˘_˘)ノ
#im gonna do studies tomorrow too hopefully and I’ll just add them later 😴#I gave her my cheekbones bc I never do that! >:)#riza hawkeye#fma full metal alchemist#full metal alchemis brotherhood#sketchie#fanart#saintprivateerart#saintprivateer
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who you are
note: mostly made this for my own comfort, but i do hope it helps and/or comforts any fellow lesbians :]. i normally wouldn’t specify sexualities on any characters because obviously everyones going to feel differently about different characters, but like i said this started off for my own comfort bcs i was hashtag goin through it.
prompt: basically just reader struggling to accept themselves as a lesbian. sorry non lesbians :(
warnings: heavy heavy heavy on internalized lesbophobia. talks about comphet (trying to force oneself to like men) and wanting to be ‘normal’
thank u ally for proofreading <3
not tagging anyone just because i don’t want to trigger :[
. . .
you were wrestling with something, natasha could tell that much. your eyebrows were drawn together, eyes lost in a gaze. it wasn’t until the third time tony called your name when you snapped out of it.
“sorry,” you mumbled.
“well are you going to answer the question?”
natasha noted the tapping of your foot, knuckles cracking beneath the table. it was obvious you weren’t in the right state of mind to be answering any kind of question. foolishly, no one else picked up on that except for the redhead.
“what was the question?”
tony sighed, his patience growing thinner by the second.
“i asked if your report was done. it was supposed to be handed in three days ago, remember?”
your foot tapped faster.
“yeah- yeah, i’m almost finished.”
it wasn’t like you to be so late on things like this, you were usually on top of everything.
“you told me you would have it ready by today. this is the fourth time this month that you’ve done this. you’re dragging your ass and the rest of us are getting pretty tired of it.” a collective agreement could be heard from the team. all eyes were on you waiting for a reply.
if you hadn’t felt anxious before, you most definitely did now.
“it won’t happen again.” tony blew off your statement and rolled his eyes. you shifted uncomfortably, nauseous from all the negative attention.
you couldn’t help but wonder if they knew. maybe that’s why they were being so short. it made sense after all.
natasha tried making her way towards you, but she was stopped by steve’s hand on her shoulder. you were well past gone by the time she managed to scramble away from him.
your back pressed flatly against the wall, tears steadily falling down your face. hatred was all you felt. hatred towards yourself.
why couldn’t you be like the rest of them? why didn’t you belong?
whywhywhywhywhywhy
granted, you knew there was absolutely nothing wrong with being gay. that was never the issue. the issue was the fact that it was yourself, that there was no possibility for you to ever be attracted to men.
you were sure it would be a phase, that it would pass, that you would forget about it and never think about it again. you tried to go on dates, tried to form a relationship, tried to enjoy having sex with them. none of it worked, no matter how much you forced yourself to believe it would.
all you could think about was how sick and disgusting you felt. and the shit representation didn’t help your case at all. the media hardly ever portrayed a good, well-rounded lesbian character that wasn’t problematic, over-sexualized or dead.
the media only reiterated the fact that you were supposed to want men. you were supposed to find the right guy and fall in love with him, call him your husband and start a family.
a knock on your door pulled you away from your thoughts. you shuffled your way back to your feet, drying your eyes for good measurement.
natasha stood patiently, eyes drilled on your doorknob. if it were up to her she’d be picking your lock, but she knew that would be crossing a boundary. she went to knock again when your door swung open.
“hi nat.”
“hey,” her voice was soft. “you’ve been crying...” she pressed her hand against your face, thumb rubbing the top of your cheekbone.
you shrugged. it wasn’t like you could deny her, your red eyes had already given away the truth. “yeah.”
she hummed, “may i come in?”
you hesitantly moved out of the way to let her through, cursing at yourself for finding her so attractive.
“you know you can talk to me, you always do. why haven’t you said anything?” natasha moved to sit on the edge of your bed. “you’ve grown quiet these past few days, it’s not like you.”
“i’m just tired, worn out from work i suppose.”
she nodded, though she knew better than to believe such a lie. natasha could always tell when you were lying, something you both hated and loved at the same time.
you sat next to her after a friendly tap on the bed. her gaze made you feel like a little kid in trouble. it was as if she already knew and was prepared to say the worse.
“i don’t believe you.”
“well, i don’t know what you want me to tell you, nat.”
“how about the truth?” you scoffed purely out of defense. “and what good would that do?”
“it might relieve whatever you’ve got on your heart.” you met natasha’s eyes and your lip immediately began to quiver.
“i’m afraid you won’t be able to look at me the same.”
she softened, taking your hand in hers. “there’s nothing in the world that would change the way i see you.”
“you say that now, nat, but-”
“i wouldn’t say it if i didn’t mean it.”
you thought about it further. natasha had never been one to judge someone based on the things they’ve been through, the things they’ve done or the things that make them who they are. she saw people the way they were, nothing more, nothing less.
but what if she didn’t like you or see you the way you were? you weren’t sure you could handle the aftermath if that were to be the case. it was bad enough you struggled to accept yourself, natasha’s disapproval would only break you.
“i’m a lesbian.” a lump in your throat began to form and you found yourself crying once more. “i tried so hard, i tried everything i could think of, but i can’t, i don’t like men.”
you coughed, choking on your words.
“i don’t understand, nat! i don’t understand why i can’t be normal. why can’t i do it? if i just liked men i would be okay, i would be fine, i would be fucking accepted.” you paused for a breath of air. “i just want to be normal.”
natasha was taken back by your confession. it was nothing near what she thought it would be. she expected you to tell her you’d been stressed or that you were scared for the next mission.
“i’m sorry, i-”
the spy quickly cupped your face, tilting your chin upwards as a hint to meet her eyes again.
“look at me, c’mon, hey. you have nothing to be sorry for, don’t ever think that you do. i love you for who you are. there’s nothing wrong with being a lesbian. you’re normal, you’re who you are, who you’re supposed to be. you are real. i promise you are.”
without thinking you leaned into natasha, clinging on to her for dear life. her arms found their way around your body, hands rubbing your back up and down.
“you should be proud to be who you are, not ashamed. and if you’re not proud of yourself then please know that i am. i am so, so, incredibly proud of you, sweetheart.” she finger brushed your hair as you continued to cry. “shhh, you’re alright baby. i’m sorry you’ve been dealing with this alone.”
“it’s okay nat.” she gave your body a small squeeze, frowning at your response. “you shouldn’t have to feel like you need to force yourself to be someone or something you’re not. you don’t deserve to struggle so much for your own acceptance as a lesbian.”
you nodded, though she could tell you weren’t fully convinced. “the only opinions you should care about are your own and the people you love and cherish. i know that’s easier said than done, but it’s true. besides, what you told me just gives me something more to love about you.” natasha finished off with a delicate kiss to your forehead.
“this means a lot to me, nat. thank you, for everything really.”
“oh sweetheart i should be thanking you for trusting me with such an important part of you are.” you shied away, a growing smile forming on your face as you leaned into her shoulder.
natahsa smirked, clearly aware of the effect she had on you. “who knew you could be so cute?”
“nattttt.”
she rose her hands up in surrender, “alright, alright. i’ll stop on one condition.”
“what’s that?” you mumbled.
“would you let me take you out for dinner tonight? i’ll show you just how beautiful it is to be with a woman.”
“yeah, yes- yes please, that’s fine.” natasha could’ve sworn she heard your heartbeat quicken and she had to refrain from letting out a small laugh at your flustered state.
“we need to clear that little mind of yours. i’ll be back here at seven on the dot, okay?” a pat on the leg caught your senses as you watched her stand. the last thing natasha heard was the soft “okay” fall from your lips as she walked out the door.
you’d never been happier to be a lesbian in your life by the end of the night.
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this is what love does
A/N: so here is your friendly neighbor zoyalai who rewrote that scene in the Os Kervo main hall (Rule of Wolves chapter 46). Idk man this is what I have in mind and I just wanted to put more monologue and make some drastic changes KJHASDFLKHASDF
i think their scene in this chapter could have gone better ngl ahjsfkajsf but if you’re okay with canon, i’m absolutely glad you are. I just needed to make this bc my zoyalai heart said so HHAHAHA
as always @wafflesandkruge enabled me again and volunteered to edit this mess so thank you ily 🥺
contains some spoilers for Rule of Wolves so pls beware before reading :>
Word count: 4169
When the doors to the hall finally closed, Zoya released a breath of frustration. She wanted a moment of total silence, where she could shut out the voices of the people chanting her name or the affirmative tones of the dukes that agreed with Nikolai in nominating her as Ravka’s new queen. A bottle of brandy would be good too, and yet it didn’t materialize out of thin air just as she wanted it to.
She put a hand to her forehead, feeling the fatigue from the war slowly drain what was left of her strength. This was madness—everything that had happened in the past few weeks. Headache after headache, they kept coming like the barrage of Fjerdan firepower they had just encountered in the battlefield hours ago.
But the biggest headache of all was standing right in front of her in all his confident glory, the small grin never leaving his lips even as Zoya scowled at him. Nikolai Lantsov was a royal through and through. And despite the dirt that still smudged on his face, or the dried blood on his collar, he never lost that spark in him, no matter what he said about not wanting to claim the Lantsov bloodline.
How could he suddenly expect her to do this on her own terms?
"Are you out of your saintsforsaken mind?" Zoya hissed at the smiling king. He still was the king, and would continue to be as far as she was concerned. "I could strike you with lightning right now but I don't think I have the energy left for that."
Nikolai's grin turned into a wince. "Ah, but I'm always in the right state of mind," he said as he approached her with rather careful steps as if he was testing the waters around her. "And I have never been more sane and sober than now, Zoya."
The urge to summon lightning at him was still strong, but she shoved the thought down. Ravka didn't need another funeral right now, and especially not for its king.
"Say something spiteful."
Zoya furrowed her eyebrows. "What?"
"You're scowling again, and I think the only way to really know you're angry is when you combine your scowl with harsh words."
“Do you really have a death wish?"
The infuriating king pretended to think for a moment, his eyes narrowing curiously as he scratched the spot behind his ear. “I think we’ve had enough of staring down death today—”
Thunder rumbled in the skies as Zoya’s anger flared, and Nikolai flinched. But Nikola, being himself, recovered quickly with a grin. She looked at him in disbelief. It was both baffling and amazing how fast this man could change into one of his masks in just a matter of a second and then he was another person entirely.
It was their difference—Zoya didn’t have that skill. She’d never had the capability of pretending. Where she had walls around her heart to hide the girl who once believed in fairy tales and love and other nonsense, Nikolai wore his masks like they were his second skin, and it blended with the boy who just wanted what was best for his country, until he didn’t know who he was anymore.
She had never shown any signs of weakness or vulnerability, and even if she did, she would still deny it until she convinced her heart it had never happened. But he was different. He was ready to wear his heart on his sleeve if he wanted to, displaying his emotions at all times. And if he didn’t get anything out of it, he would put his mask back on like nothing happened.
Zoya hid; Nikolai pretended. If she were to look at it, pretending was better than hiding.
“Is it really that bad?” Nikolai asked softly.
Yes.
No.
I don’t know.
If she were still the same person she had been three years ago, she knew she would have accepted the offer right away. But things had changed and progressed since then, and whoever she once was, someone who wanted so much power, was long gone.
“We both know I’m not cut out for this, Nikolai,” she replied.
He didn’t say anything else, and just waited. Zoya huffed in frustration.
“You’re the diplomat, the charmer.” She gestured in the air vaguely. “Even if you’re not of the royal bloodline, there is no denying that you’ve always had the knack for this. I’m just—”
She was just what? A general? A Grisha who broke the boundaries of the Orders and achieved the impossible? An actual living saint?
Zoya let out a breath. A shadow passed on Nikolai’s face, his expression darkening to some kind of disappointment as if he already knew what she was going to say. But considering everything they had been through, it was definitely safe to say he knew her no matter how good she was at hiding.
She still said it anyway. “I’m just no one.”
“Don’t even go there.”
“You know I wouldn’t say anything I don’t mean, Nikolai. I was meant to be a soldier, to train and lead armies to their victory and be with them until our very last breaths. It was always like that.” And when Nikolai looked like he was about to contradict her, Zoya beat him to it by raising a finger to silence him. “Don't. There's nothing to say. And don’t start with me by saying you were never meant for the crown, nor the throne. That may have been the case, but you are what Ravka has needed for a long time. You fought for it instead of selling it. Hurt for it, bled for it, almost dying twice just to keep it from the mud. If that’s not what a king does, then I don’t know what I should call it.”
“A job well done?” he offered, laughing lightly when she gave him a glare that could silence the Second Army in a heartbeat. “I’m merely joking, Nazyalensky.”
“Can you be serious for once?” Zoya shook her head, heading over to one of the benches and slumping down on it.
It was only then she felt the weight of today’s war come back to her, and she found herself not wanting to stand up for a moment. Maybe she would just stay here until the madness outside passed, though she knew it would take a while.
She hunched forward with her eyes trained on her hands clasped together on her knees. She couldn’t bear to look at him as of the moment, and it irked her as it felt like she was hiding yet again and she was already tired of doing that. But when an enormous responsibility was suddenly presented to her, along with the ability to hold power over everything else, didn’t she have the right to hesitate or even think about it?
It felt like being appointed to the Grisha Triumvirate again after the war the Darkling waged that almost took Ravka down with it, and they were forced to stand up on their own feet to save the country from drowning right after fighting for their lives. It was never fair, but they braved through it.
But at what cost?
It doesn’t stop with us. It never does.
It was what David always used to say, and Zoya found those words haunting her every night after his death, knowing all too well she could have done so much better to protect him and save Genya from her pain. If it didn’t stop with them, what difference would it make if it was her seated on the throne?
Ravka was finally free, even if not completely yet, but the light at the end of the tunnel they had long since walked through was already bright as any star could have been.
A shadow on the marbled floor caught her eyes, and she looked up just in time to see Nikolai kneel in front of her, taking her hands in his. She almost—almost—wrenched away from him, but then she realized that it was him, the boy who wore his heart on his sleeve and bared everything to her without a second thought. He was looking up at her with such a soft, understanding expression on his face that she wondered if she was seeing right.
She blinked, and then she felt as if she was back at the ship again, hearing his confession that took the breath out of her lungs and made her heart beat like it had never been before.
And for the past years of her life and the rest that would still come, Zoya was sure she would never feel as frightened as she was now.
You promised yourself you would speak your heart when you had the chance, didn’t you? she scolded in her mind. Only the saints knew how much she had waited for this moment between them after the war. She almost didn’t have the chance. So why was she trying to run away from it again?
He was so, so near, and yet she was still terrified to reach for him.
"I can't do this, Nikolai," she said instead.
"I will be by your side." Always, was what hung at the end and not said aloud, but she knew he meant it.
Zoya felt a small smile on her lips, the urge to touch his face becoming stronger than her will to fight it. What was stopping her? Her pride? Maybe it really was that, but her damn pride had already cost her enough.
So she reached a hand up to his cheek, her touch gentle as the breeze that fluttered in the room when her skin met his.
Nikolai learned in her hand almost immediately, a content sigh coming from his lips.
"I would give my life for Ravka over and over again, as I know you would too," she whispered, her thumb gently brushing his cheekbone. She dropped her hand and put it on top of his. "But I don't think this is what's best for Ravka. We have fought and lived through the wars it suffered. We vowed to drag it from the mud it had fallen into until our last breaths, and now that it can finally stand up on its own, I think it's had its fill of kings and queens and wars. Ravka now needs to listen to its people."
Zoya knew it sounded ambitious and audacious, but it could be a start, a beginning of a new age. The journey would be a tedious one, as always, but she knew it was worth the try. Ravka was always worth the try, no matter how much it took from them.
Silence stretched between them for a moment, and Zoya was thankful for it being a comfortable one rather than a tense pause. She searched his eyes, trying to find the stubborn glint in them as a sign that he was thinking of arguing back. But she didn't see it.
There was only the look he had always sent her way, the same one he had when he bared his heart to her in the airship, and she felt her breath hitch in her throat. She really ought to strangle him for making her feel this way.
"Spoken like a true queen, I'd say," said Nikolai with a laugh.
Zoya scoffed, grateful for the sudden distraction. "I remember that I didn't agree with the proposal of me being the new queen, so that means you're still the king, Your Idiocy."
There was a hint of an amused grin at the corner of his lips. "What can I say? When I thought of what's best for Ravka, my mind instantly thought of you."
"Didn’t I ask you to be serious even just for once?"
"You speak as if I were making those words up."
"If you know what's best for you and Ravka, you would stop trying to change my mind because my decision would remain the same."
Nikolai smiled ruefully. "I know." He paused, turning his attention to their joined hands. There was an unusual slump in his shoulders, something she rarely saw him have. He sighed, and then slowly pressed his forehead to her knuckles. "I thought I lost you today," he said quietly.
Her heart clenched at the pain in his voice, but she understood it. She almost lost him today too. "You won't be rid of me that easily, Nikolai," Zoya said.
He chuckled, and it sounded more in pain than in amusement. Then he drew in a shaky breath before looking back up at her. "When I saw you fall, I thought the worst and I—" He stopped with a dry laugh. "But I guess you're right, I won't be able to get rid of you that easily."
She felt a smile curl on her lips. "I should be the one telling you that, but I figure it can go both ways," Zoya said, and before she could make herself hide away again, she gave in and lowered her forehead to touch his. In a soft whisper, she said, "But I've never been more grateful you're still here with me."
They were still here, alive and breathing, and she was glad they both got to see the end of the day. When she felt herself plummeting to the ground, she thought that it was her end, and she had accepted it. Exhaustion crept in her bones, her own strength not enough to whip up a draft to cushion her fall. But there was a gust of wind—from Nadia or from Adrik—that caught her, saving her from the deadly impact.
And then a voice. His voice, full of worry and hurt and pain, pleading her to wake. He was the first thing she saw when she opened her eyes again, and it was during that moment she allowed herself to wish that he would be the one she would wake up to every morning, and the last one she’d see when she fell asleep at night.
It had reminded Zoya of the time she saved the king from falling once, back when they were just soldiers fighting for their lives in the Fold, and she wondered if he had been glad to see her when he opened his eyes.
Nikolai reached a hand up to touch her cheek, his fingers light as if she were the most important thing in the world that he was finally allowed to touch. His eyes never wavered from hers.
"I would still choose you, you know," he suddenly said, his voice trembling. "Even if you didn't want to do anything with me anymore. Even if you were in some place else, reassigned to another position. Even if you didn't want me." He tried to smile, but it seemed to take more effort than just not. "I'd still want you. I'd still want you with everything in me."
Zoya already knew how he felt for her beforehand, his confession back in the ship sharpening into focus in her mind. And yet she still felt like she heard him bare his heart to her for the first time, even when he had already been doing it for years.
It would be so easy to tell him that she felt the same; those three words that were hanging between them for a long time begging to be set free. But still a small, terrified part of her held back, and she realized that it was the girl she had once been, the girl who believed in everything before the cruel world took that magic away from her and replaced it with fear.
This is what love does. It took away everything, blinded one's logic and reasoning, and even brought pain that no one should feel. Why should people hurt when all they ever wanted was to have and feel the love they deserved?
“I know I’ve already told you this on the ship,” Nikolai continued, the rueful smile returning to his lips. “But I wanted you to hear it again, as I almost didn’t have the chance today. No prince and no power could ever make me stop wanting you.”
Zoya felt her breath get knocked out from her lungs again, but her doubts and insecurities continued to cloud her, lingering in her as if they were the only ones her heart knew of. “Maybe for now you will want me.” She paused, unexpected tears stinging her eyes. She closed them instead; she didn’t think she could bear looking at him. “But soon enough you will grow to hate me. I’m too sharp. Too angry. Too spiteful.” And you deserve so much better than that. “That’s who I am, Nikolai.”
“Zoya,” Nikolai murmured.
She felt his breath ghost over her skin, and yet she still refused to look at him. She couldn’t. But if there was one thing she knew about Nikolai Lantsov, it was his persistence for everything.
“Zoya, my love. Look at me,” he said softly, and this time Zoya finally obliged him.
An unwanted ache clogged her throat as she met his gaze, bright and warm and open. There was nothing in them except the sincerity he always had around her. In this light, his hazel eyes looked almost golden. He had a golden spirit. Then it struck her, as she remembered the words from a memory a long time ago, that maybe she was finally looking at that boy in her aunt’s story. He had been in front of her all along.
Nikolai grinned, his eyes brighter than she had ever seen them, and there were tears clouding them as well. “You speak as if I haven’t seen you at your worst,” he said.
“You will grow tired of me, Nikolai.”
“That’s where you’re wrong,” he said. A tear escaped his eye, and she felt it land on her hand. He let out another breathless laugh. “I’d want you for the rest of my life, Zoya.”
Something broke inside her chest, and then a tear fell from her eye as well. Her fingers intertwined with his, their hold on each other’s hands tightening as if the other would disappear if they let go. He brought her hands to his lips and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. A few tears slipped on her hand as he did, but he had a look of contentment on his face, like he finally felt he was home.
More tears fell from her eyes as she pressed her forehead back to his. For years, she had let herself believe that she wasn’t worthy of being loved, that she was only made to be a soldier, a weapon to be used by her own country.
This is what love does. Zoya had been wrong from the start. Because in the end, Nikolai’s love for her was what made him see past her worst self. Every flaw and every scar, he accepted them wholeheartedly. She didn’t know how he’d come to love her, someone who had avoided any signs of kindness and sincerity he gave her, thinking that it would be used against her later.
There was no denying the pain they had caused each other through the years, when their words were too sharp and they wounded their hearts and pride before they could even have the chance to think of it. And yet they always came back to each other, their faith in each other still there if not stronger before.
Love was never without pain. It would still be felt over and over again because it was real.
And if tearing down the walls she had built around herself and giving her heart away would make her vulnerable to hurting, then perhaps it was something she was willing to do.
Because Nikolai Lantsov was worth every pain.
So Zoya took the leap, drawing him up to her and pressing her mouth to his, and everything felt like it finally clicked into place. He acted immediately, and she could almost feel his smile against her lips. After the long days of wanting, her heart was at peace for once. The Fjerdans could have come back and waged war against them again, but she didn’t care about anything but the warm press of his lips.
When the need for air became stronger than the need for each other’s lips, Zoya pulled away and rested her forehead against his. Her eyes were still clouded with tears when she finally said, “I love you.”
To say that Nikolai’s grin was bright would have been an understatement. In the dull colored room they were in, he seemed to be glowing. He let out another breathless laugh. “I never thought I would hear those words come from you,” he said, his eyes alight with utter bliss. “But for what it’s worth” —he wiped a tear from her cheek with his thumb— “I love you too.”
Silence fell around them and everything focused on the man in front of Zoya. Perhaps she could stay here in his arms for another while and ignore the looming responsibilities standing right outside the doors.
She was his, and he was hers. For now, that was all that mattered.
“Is there really nothing that can change your mind?” Nikolai said, breaking the comfortable silence between them, and Zoya wanted nothing more than to strangle him right now.
“You really had to ruin the atmosphere, didn’t you?”
He laughed lightly. “My ruthless Zoya, I am merely joking,” he said, and then his face became serious. For a moment, a small twinge of fear clawed at her heart. “Then what do you think about being a regent? At least until we find someone to rule properly, or until we could transition the monarchy towards something else.” He wrinkled his nose. “I mean, I said I would give you a crown, and this is my last chance to make good on my words even just for a short time. Besides, Regent Nazyalensky does have a nice ring to it.”
Zoya raised an eyebrow, the idea not occurring to her until now. She furrowed her eyebrows. “You actually suggested something reasonable,” she said, earning a pout from the king. She looked at him with mild concern then, realizing the meaning of having a regent. “Are you really abdicating the throne?”
“I’m not joking when I said that the crown was never meant for me, and I think my bloodline really solidified that fact. I realized I was only fighting for this country, not the throne.” He shrugged as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “And if that’s really your decision, I would be with you in every step of the way. But I hope we can stabilize Ravka until we can have a solution to my....sudden resignation.”
“What’s your plan if ever that time comes?” Zoya knew she was asking so many questions, but she couldn’t help it. This man continued to surprise her with his declarations and she had no idea what could come next. “Play pirate again?”
Nikolai scowled at her, and she wanted to laugh at his expression. “Privateer,” he corrected like always. Then he smiled, his eyes suddenly having a faraway look. “For once, I don’t know. But maybe I would play privateer again as I’ve missed the seas terribly.” Then he turned to her, his expression gentle. “If I ask you to come with me as my first mate then, would you agree?”
Would she? Zoya had never known anything outside her life in Os Alta. For years, it had been a continuous battle for the freedom of the country that took everything from its people, and she had no time to think about her freedom if she ever did retire from being a soldier.
But she could already see glimpses of a future ahead, a quiet and easy life, without any fear of having to go back to war. And in those glimpses, she could see him.
Zoya huffed, making it sound as disbelieving as possible. But she already knew her answer. “I’d make a horrible first mate as I easily get seasick,” she said.
“Ah, but I don’t mind. As long as you’re there with me,” Nikolai said, taking her hands in his again. He pressed another kiss to her knuckles. “So what do you say, Regent Nazyalensky?”
The future was something she had no control over, she always knew that. The only way to know what it held was to continue fighting until she reached it, and as long as she had the right person beside her, she knew she would be alright.
They had always been a team, she and Nikolai, and they would continue to be like that for as long as they lived.
So without another hint of doubt, Zoya intertwined her fingers with his, squeezing his hand gently. “Alright, dearest privateer,” she said. “Let’s keep this country standing upright until then.”
And they would. Together.
#zoyalai#nikolai lantsov#zoya nazyalensky#rule of wolves#rule of wolves spoilers#row spoilers#or that scene in os kervo hall#where i changed a few things#BC WHERE IS MY HUG OR MY SOFT MOMENT BEFORE THE SAPS LEIGH#:SOB:#they just came from the war#and not once did i ever see a moment of relief#that the love of your life survived the war KLJHASFLKJHASDF#i needed this okay#and as i've said i felt a bit off abt the continuation of ravkan monarchy#but queen zoya works too so#i think the best thing they could do was to be regents for a while until they can do something abt the monarchy#or slowly transition it to a democracy#even if it's going to take a while#nik could still joke abt giving her a crown and actually do it KLJHASFKLHJAS#and i just wanted a more emotionally constipated and terrified zoya having inner turmoil abt love#;-;#and they could sail the seas after#IDK MAN THE POTENTIAL OF THIS SCENE#I JUST WANT IT TO DELIVER MORE#SO HAVE THIS MESS PLS
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you are such a good writer so i just know you’ll do justice to this. if you’d be willing, a small drabble about reader who tends to be quite standoffish w guys and just isn’t as close to them as compared to girls bc i remember being so stupid around my childhood crush and i’m pretty sure he hated me 😃 and then the guy i was friends w wouldn’t let me get too close to him bc he didn’t want people to think we’re “dating” n e ways let me shove my insecurities back down,,, but reader still loves watching romance anything bc someone unabashedly wanting to be around you like that?? can’t relate xx anyways it can be w any haikyuu guy, let the vibes come to you 🥰 thank you Jess love u 🥺
A/N: Hold up - THIS IS ME OMG! I feel you, I have terrible luck with romance but I find it so cute at the same time! I love you too, gorgeous anon, I hope I’ve done you justice 🥺
So allow me to kill some of those insecurities - or Oikawa will rather >:)
Warnings: cursing, fem reader
>>>>——————————>
Anyone could admit Oikawa Tōru was enamouring, yet you only offered a shaky sigh as your friend tugged you along to meet her team. That’s what you get for befriending the future manager of Seijoh back in Middle School.
"Aren't you from Iwa-chans’ class?" An internal shriek caused your eyes to widen, snapping your head to the local celebrity tilting his toward you rather than his fangirls.
"I'm surprised you remember." Snarky. Nice, you'd possibly regret it if not for his all-too-gentlemanly attitude. He’d only barged in searching for Iwaizumi a couple of times, you didn’t think he’d taken notes.
"Wouldn't forget a pretty face like yours." The smile was beautiful, even so you crossed your arms with a raised brow.
"Next time, try harder~"
"So mean (L/n)-chan."
You winced, your head screaming 'I know! God I know?! Why would I say that?!' but it was natural instinct at this point, a defence mechanism if you will, especially against someone as cunning as Oikawa Tōru.
In honesty, you believed that to be the start and end of it - except your friend encouragingly dragged you to her practices and Oikawa strategically managed to catch you alone every single time. Makki or Mattsun (you think) subtlety coined your friends focus for approximately 10 minutes, leaving you laxly waiting for her to rejoin you. In fact with the consistency at which it occurred, you’d become friends with the Captain.
———
Only you’d let your guard down once, the team required managerial help meanwhile you got settled playing a romantic film on your phone. Immediately you were distracted, softness leaking to your features whilst muffled hopeless sighs of endearment were hummed in acknowledgment.
“That’s an unusual sound from you~”
“He just gave her a rose and they kissed in the rain, how could I not - shit!” It was a subconscious answer due to enthralment, the haunting voice only resonating mid-way through your justification causing you to shockingly snap around to Tōru watching from over your shoulder with a smug grin. You’d almost dropped your phone!
“Don’t stop now (Y/n)-chan, tell me how to get you to make that sound again. It’s cute.”
“No- no way! Get back to practice Oikawa - go do a jump serve or something!”
“Oh? So you do listen when I talk about Volleyball!”
———
It wasn’t until after their next practice match did you suffer his infuriating (yet admittedly appreciated) presence again. This time the brunette proudly standing by your side as he shared his views of the match with you - the burning gazes of his fans deadlocked on the two of you as if deciphering the DaVinci code.
"Maybe you should um - y'know, not be so close?"
A careful roll of your shoulder accompanied your hesitant claim, the close proximity allowing for the small movement to graze his left side. Oikawa shot you a perplexed look, leaning closer to your face out of spite - even if his inquiry was subtlety sincere.
"Why? You don't like it?"
"No - I mean yes - I just..." A sigh of defeat escapes as you run a hand through your hair before meeting his warm hues again. "People might think you care and I wouldn't want you to have to deal with rumours."
Tōru was unnervingly quiet, he would’ve took a step back if you’d asked, however this reasoning was ridiculous by his standard. Darkened irises scanned over your casual frame with fingers pressed against his chin in thought.
"What if I want people to think that? I mean it's true, isn't it~"
"Is it?"
A melodic chuckle echoes your sarcastic suspicion, the heartthrob of Seijoh nudging your arm with a charming smile that’d leave fans fainting at his feet.
"Am I not obvious enough for you (Y/n)-chan?"
"You're obvious to everyone - in fact you're probably nicer to your fans than you are to me. Hence why I'm hesitant to believe you."
It was beyond comprehension to think one of the most popular men in Miyagi be romantically interested in you, which is why taking the flirtatious antics of Oikawa was done with a pinch of salt.
“Hmm... in that case I’ll show you...” You hadn’t a moment to determine his intentions, not when he’d firmly hooked your wrist and dragged you out to the refreshing Spring showers currently hydrating Miyagis’ cherry blossoms that day.
“By getting me wet?!”
“Eventually maybe - ah, that’s not it though.” Only smirking at the death glare pointed at him due the insinuation, Tōru washed it away with the gentle caress of his palms either side of your jaw. You knew his hands were magic but this was surreal - a thumb brushed your cheekbone before his lips met with your forehead, his nose then skimmed to meet yours with a genuinely content smile ghosting his features.
“T-tōru?” Breathless surprise, that’s all you could muster with the rain trickling down your skin onto his delicate fingers. He’d never seen you so defenceless, and he’d wanted more of it.
“I actually like that sound better than your longing sighs, say it again for me, won’t you?” You’d pulled from him with that, your fingers lacing his wrists - to which the Setter fluently twisted and captured your hands in his own causing you to furrow your brows once again.
“Shut up, you’re not funny.”
A defeated sigh left him, eyes briefly closed in surrender prior to fluttering open with renewed admiration for you, mildly unwilling to admit the sentimentality underlying his actions. Sentimentality tailored to you and for only you.
“I know it’s not a passionate kiss in the rain like in the movies, the ones you like so much. But I’ll willingly, happily try - we can get to that if you want to go on a date with me?“
“Are you serious? Don’t you h-“
“I don’t want them, I want you. The person who lets her friends drag her to games she didn’t want to attend, who helps in practice despite not needing to, the girl who got to know the real me, and the one who looks really cute watching romantic movies~”
“I don’t know her but, I suppose there’s no harm in going out with you once Oikawa.” The witty response caused him to laugh along with you, expecting nothing less.
“Perfect - but my hair is gonna be ruined, can we go back inside now (Y/n)-chan?”
Rolling your eyes at his petty whining, you couldn’t hide the overflowing amusement in your laugh as you pushed him back into the gymnasium where his team (and your friend) sported expectant grins.
<——————————<<<<
[ Masterlist ]
#oikawa toru#oikawa toru x reader#oikawa toru imagine#oikawa scenarios#haikyuu#haikyuu x reader#haikyuu scenarios#haikyuu imagines#anime x reader#anime imagines#aoba johsai#oikawa tōru#hq#hq fluff#hq imagines
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Hi my name’s Maeve! 😇 I write for Anakin and a tiny bit of Obi.
My inbox is closed!
Feel free to send me any thoughts you have, but if you send a fic request I can’t promise that I’ll get to it anytime soon. I still love to see your ideas though!
(ps check out my ongoing fic Give Me Love)
First Kiss - Anakin treats reader to their first kiss
Drunk - Reader comes home from a party wasted, and Anakin is there to witness it… and maybe make out with…
Anakin Cuddling Hc’s - What it’s like to cuddle with the Best Boy
Anakin with giggly reader Hc’s and Anakin x Jealous/Insecure reader - first half is hc for a giggly reader and second half is a fic where reader gets jealous and insecure and Anakin comforts them
Anakin x Short/Shy/Insecure Reader Hc’s - Just some headcanons of a soft boy
Loving On You - Slight Anakin angst, basically you hold him after a crappy mission
Be My Forever - Anakin proposes with as little words as possible
Anakin Teaches You How To Drive Hc’s- nice car go zoom 🚗💨
Anakin With a Pregnant Reader Hc’s- use protection kids
Anakin x Touch Starved Reader Hc’s - definitely not self indulgent
Touch Starved Anakin x Reader Hc’s - this was actually rlly cute
Playing with his hair imagine - i know i write about this a lot but cmon
Anakin Comforting Reader Hc’s - cue the uwu’s
Distraction - Anakin distracts reader as they study
Walking with Anakin as he does General stuff- small blurb
Domestic Anakin Hc’s - random thoughts I had of him
Giving Anakin a massage - w a tiny hint of smut
Complimenting Anakin - is never talked about enough
Anakin x curvy Reader Hc’s
Anakin x skinny Reader Hc’s
Fluff blurbs! - one, two
Stargazing with Anakin
Wearing Anakin’s Jedi Robes Hc’s
Sleepy moments with Ani Hc’s
Jealous Anakin x Reader Hc’s - mentions of smut
Anakin x Jealous Reader Hc’s - mentions of smut
Patched Up - Reader comes back from a mission all cut up, Anakin helps patch her up
Sick People Should Stay Away from Balconies - Reader is sick and asking for trouble, Anakin deals with her shit
Jelly toast - a request for a reader coming back from a mission all bruised and cut up, Anakin takes care of her
Anakin x Asthmatic Reader Hc’s - how he would act to you having asthma
Bad Dream- Reader has a nightmare during a thunderstorm and goes to Anakin for help
He Kicks Your Ass And Then Lets You Braid His Hair - see title
A Helping Hand (part 1) - Reader hurts her arm during a mission, and Anakin comes to help her (in more ways than one). Whump is in part 1, smut is in part 2 listed under Smut.
Anakin x Reader on her Period heacanons - shark week oofs
Anakin x Sick reader headcanons
Don’t Forget About Me - Reader begs Anakin not to go break up the fight between Mace Windu and Palpatine
I Gave You All - Our war-torn baby just needs a hug
Anakin x Reader w/ Mommy Issues - bro i just
Night Bus - The Council forces you to leave Anakin
A Reason to Stay - read this at your own risk, deals with severe mental health issues. basically Anakin helps reader through a dark time.
Misunderstandings - angst ending in fluff, Anakin and reader go on a bodyguard mission together and both get jealous.
Anakin crying blurb - give sad boy a hug damnit
Anakin and Reader Take a Shower -basically what the title says. The shower gets heated in more ways than one.
What That Mouth Do Though 👄💦- he eats you out like a champ 💪🏻
Needy Anakin - (you give him a blowie)
Say My Name- jealous Anakin, choking, fucking, you know 🤷🏼♀️
First time - Readers first time HAVING SEX with Anakin 🥰
His First Time - The first time Anakin HAS SEX, & it’s with you :)
Welcome Home - Anakin comes home from war and reader welcomes him back with open arms... and open legs
Save a Spaceship, Ride a Starpilot- Anakin has reader sit on his face and then she fucks him slowly ;)
Giving him a lapdance short - just a lil imagine
Jealousy (part 1) - classic under-the-table action at a high end event
Jealousy (part 2) - he gets his revenge
Master Kink Hc’s - exactly what it sounds like
A Helping Hand (part 2) - Anakin helps Reader out bc she has a broken arm :) very sweet and soft and fluffy to mend y’alls broken hearts. (part 1 is under Whump)
This is what he sounds like when he cums - grab ur headphones
This is what he sounds like in bed - grab ur headphones again lol
Anakin Eating Pussy Hc’s (part 1) - from the top make it drop thats a wap
Anakin Eating Pussy Hc’s (part 2) - wap wap wap
General Kink blurb - credit goes to @kenobikittens
Cruel Intentions - holiday smut, this hurt ppl’s feelings for some reason woops. anakin is mad and he’s got a dirty mouth, and also it’s Life Day.
Anakin x fem reader Pregnancy Sex Hc’s - i hate kids but this was cute
NSFW blurbs! - one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, nineteen, twenty
Sub Anakin Hc’s - good boy ;)
Deepthroating Anakin Hc’s
Dry Humping Hc’s
A Dream Come True - Anakin helps reader masturbate and cum for the first time
Anakin & size kink hc’s
Anakin is smart - just a post talking about how intelligent our favorite Jedi is
More proof that he’s smart
Anidala Fluff - A request where Anakin and Padme do it in the fields of Naboo for the first time (no smut it’s romantic get ur head out of the gutter John B)
Love at First Sight - Anakin falls in love with you as soon as he sees you
All These Little Things - Padme x Reader / Anakin x Reader Hc’s where reader is romantically interested in Padme until she notices all of Anakin’s little things
Anakin’s hands appreciation post
Anakin’s Cheekbones Appreciation Post - he’s just got em okay
Anakin’s arms appreciation post
Aggressive Negotiations (part one) - Anakin and Reader go to a ball and it doesn’t turn out the way they expect
Aggressive Negotiations (part two) - combines the ‘he sees her dressed up for the first time’, ‘handcuffed together’, and ‘stuck in a closet’ tropes all in one mission gone wrong ;)
When he does the hand-on-cheek thing - *cries*
For people who have freckles
For people who have freckles p2 - not my work but thanks to @haydens-moles you guys have to suffer through this post with me
Anakin can sing
Anakin + drinking - some musings about the jedi and booze
Anakin loves rain
Anakin’s Eyelashes Appreciation Post
Random facts about his childhood
Sad Anakin fact
Anakin Reaction Pics
Random Anakin Thoughts - im so disorganized my b
What does his dick look like?
Is he brunette or blonde discourse - spoil alert: it’s neither. see next link
What color is his hair really?
It’s you- Obi Wan x Reader fic where he comes back from a mission planning to break it off with you, but then realizes he can’t let you go
You Can Rest Now - Obiwan x Reader where you take care of him after a mission that’s left him tired and sick
Obi-Wan Hc’s - random thoughts I had about him being in a relationship
What I Imagine The Star Wars Boys Wear For Underwear
What I Imagine The Star War’s Boys Dicks Are Like
Rating the Star Wars Boys Cum Faces on a Scale from 1-10
Kinky R2
The fanart that ended thousands of careers
R2D2 x C3P0 Smut
You get Acid in your Vagina Hc’s
Carrot Fun w Anakin - two parter, includes videos
Yoda smut snippet
He gave you a specific order
If Anakin can pull off a butt chin then so can I
How many shots it would take for me to sleep with the stars wars men (part one) (part two)
Anakin w a weave
Which Star Wars Characters Have a Foot Fetish
#anakin#anakinskywalker#masterlist#anakinmasterlist#shortstories#imagines#fluff#one shots#preferences#send me requests#anakin x reader#anakinskywalker x reader#starwarsprequals#obi wan x you#obiwan kenobi#obiwan x reader#padme#star wars#anakin fic#star wars fic#aotc#rots#anakin smut#anakin fluff#anakin whump#anakin angst#star wars crack#star wars memes
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In the Golden Dark
a/n: Having never done any ship writing before I’m just going to jump feet first into the deep end with a little Hotchreid for you today. It’s nice. No warnings except maybe some angst because we are who we are. Probably the softest thing you will see from me so enjoy the moment. Completely unnecessary disclaimer that I would find this relationship wildly inappropriate in real life but thank god we’re out here in the lawless fiction of the internet. And you’re getting full on song lyrics bc Hotchreid is nothing if not decadent af. There’s more but I’m impatient so here’s the first bit. ~ 2.7k
what the hell am I doing here in the golden dark?
feeling like I’m someone else who looks the part
I built up barricades to block my heart
cause I don’t wanna fear you
He leaned back in his chair, reaching his arms up and clasping his hands behind his head, arching his back slightly. With his eyes closed it could be any time of day. He inhaled deeply and pretended for a moment that he was nowhere. He even gave himself a few extra seconds, indulging in the quiet that was the office at night. If only he could feel so peaceful in the right moments—before sleeping perhaps. When he opened his eyes all he could see was the reflection of his office light in the black windows. There hadn’t been daylight for hours. He’d switched off the overhead lights in favor of the small desk lamp that pooled the light only in the area of immediate relevance. Everything beyond its reach faded in and out of existence as his focus fell deeply into the forms in front of him.
He pressed his elbows back as far as they would go, pulling up slightly on the base of his skull, stretching out a day’s worth of stress, countless hours spent bent over report after report. He never could have imagined that saving people would require so much paperwork. Reducing the chaos of the lived experience, the searches and the takedowns, the intricate patterns of dozens of personalities layering choices upon one another; it turned out to be quite difficult to do. It took him hours to wrap up cases, even with everyone doing most of their own reports. Which, through no fault of their own, wasn’t always the case. He usually ended up siphoning off a fair number of those reports in addition to his own.
He didn’t mind, he needed to go over everything, needed to make sure that any possible negative feedback that came back would fall to him and he would be prepared if it did. His team were his responsibility, he would be neglecting his duties if he didn’t ensure that things were handled properly. None of them needed the headache of administrative errors. He was good with details, good with forms, good with protocol. He would happily be the filter that saved them all the trouble of little errors even if it hadn’t been part of his job.
But that didn’t change the fact that it was eleven o’clock on a Wednesday and everyone else had gone home hours ago. Only the late night janitorial staff wandered in and out occasionally, nodding at him in silent greeting as they reset the offices to give the illusion of an endlessly renewable supply of fresh starts. People that didn’t stay late never gave this transformation a second thought. They left the office with full trashcans and small debris scattered on the old carpets, only to return the next morning to find a place untouched by human presence, metal fixtures shining and glass doors free of oily fingerprints. That was just how the world worked for them, generous with new beginnings. People who lingered knew better, that effort was put into the effect. Beginnings were never easy, never flowed so inevitably as the set and rise of the sun.
Hotch had been working late for many years, long before he was even in the BAU. He had learned in law school how to brew the coffee strong enough to stay up all night if need be. How the indoor lighting changed without the support of daylight, tinting the world a thin sickly green color without the natural light to round out the fluorescence. He only got worse about it once he joined the Bureau, the stress of the job causing old habits and old secrets to float to the surface. He compensated by working the hardest, doing the most, never allowing anyone to see him need things that other people needed. He could handle this job, this was all he ever wanted after all. To save the world. Or maybe, more modestly, to save the world of a few.
Now, with Haley gone, Jack with her, somewhere well out of his disastrous reach, there was no reason at all not to fully give in. No reason not to let his insomnia at least be productive. To let the latent self destruction that fueled his actions at least have a positive impact on the people he cared about. He could do that at least.
He rubbed his face with his hands, he was getting loopy. There was no reason to be letting his mind wander so far, there were still reports he could get through. Perhaps, as unlikely as the idea felt, he could even get ahead. He looked back down at the paperwork, letting his feet settle flat on the floor. The letters swam in front of him and he sighed, rolling his pen beneath his thumb, considering. He could probably make it another hour. He could get another pot of coffee into himself. He cast about for his mug, finding it empty on the shelf behind him. He sometimes kept it there to prevent his reports from acquiring telltale dark rings. Rolling back from the desk, he hooked the handle with two fingers and headed out to the kitchenette.
Wrapped up in making plans for what he could finish tonight and what could be left for the morning he was startled to find a light still on in the bullpen. He was certain everyone had gone home long ago. They’d each passed by his office, offering him an out as they made their ways home—perhaps their exit could be the motivation he needed to break out of his office, to head towards his own home. What they didn’t realize was that home was not better for him. Work was far better, far safer, with tasks to complete, a purpose. If he was smart he would stay at work forever.
So he waved to them as they checked out, giving them small smiles that, though imperceptible to strangers, they recognized as both apologies and well-wishes. He knew they worried, that they didn’t like to see him tied to his desk late into the night. They thought it was one of his many methods for making himself suffer but he didn’t have the heart to tell them that this was him making a good decision, this was him trying his very best. In his experience, nothing good happened at home.
He thought he remembered everyone leaving, each goodbye. But every day was the same and they all bled together so he must have missed one because he cannot deny the light down below. As he walked down the stairs, confused by the discovery that he was not as alone as he had been imagining, his tired vision focused better. He could make out dark blond curls and a darker sweater hunched over the desk in the middle of the room.
“Reid?” The name came out as a croak, he hadn’t spoken in hours and probably hadn’t had any water in that time period either. He cleared his throat and said it again, louder and closer to the other man than before. Reid’s head snapped up, expression as guilty as a child caught out of bed.
“S-sorry,” he stuttered, eyes wide.
Hotch frowned, not because he was upset but because he was still a little disoriented and his muscles fell back into the most familiar actions.
“I—“ Reid ducked his head and started pushing papers together on his desk, shoving them haphazardly into a file folder. “I was just…” he trailed off, not really having intended on explaining himself. He was simply also startled and reverting to the familiar.
Reid explained compulsively, able to handle the world when parsed down to facts and numbers. He didn’t have a fact for why he had stayed so late, only a feeling and that he didn’t know how to explain. Nights had been particularly lonely recently so he had allowed himself to stay later and later, getting lost in his thoughts at his work desk. Even without people around there was a sense of occupancy, their faint impressions lingering in the air. Plus there was always Hotch up in his office. He didn’t actively think about him or what he was doing but he liked knowing the man was nearby. Hotch’s solid presence always made him feel more secure, less concerned with whatever might jump out at him from the shadows overlapping the world and his mind.
He couldn’t tell Hotch that, was far too embarrassed to admit that sometimes, even with all the lights on, it was too dark in his apartment. No matter the illumination, he couldn’t quite dispel the unease of the night when he was alone. It wasn’t always like this, sometimes he had enough brightness to spare. Recently, however, things had been hard. So much had been going on, he couldn’t quite pinpoint why but he knew he felt uneasy. Too much had changed, there was too much risk that the floor could still fall out beneath him at any moment. And it hadn’t been so long since he’d escaped the consequences of his kidnapping, his addiction, that he trusted himself to be able to manage too much more uncertainty. Backsliding was always a risk and right now the world tilted at a frightening grade. So he let himself stay late in the safety of familiarity, sometimes working but more often not, idly rereading the books he had brought in and forgotten around the office. Tonight he had actually started to doze off, which contributed to his shock upon being discovered.
Hotch continued to frown at him, watching as the thoughts raced across Spencer’s face. He noticed how deep the shadows were beneath his eyes, the way darkness pooled in the space below his cheekbones, as if they were concave impressions filled by seawater. He knew Spencer didn’t eat enough, was all too familiar with the ways too much coffee and not enough calories pinched the skin and exposed the fine lines of capillaries beneath the surface.
“Sorry,” Spencer repeated.
He looked genuinely ashamed and it made Hotch a little sad. Couldn’t Spencer see that he was just as guilty of whatever it was he thought he was doing wrong by being here? He made a conscious effort to soften his expression, to show the warmth he felt for the younger man. After having spent his entire life masking his emotions, protecting himself one of the only ways he could, it wasn’t always easy to show his affection. Especially not at this time of night, when all he could do was cling to his walls and hope to find himself still on solid ground when the sun rose. Spencer wasn’t looking at him, too caught up in his own maze.
“Let’s go get something to eat,” Hotch said, trying a different tactic. He was smart, he knew not to make it a demand or a comment on Spencer’s health. It was only an invitation, firm enough for Spencer to know he meant it, that it was not just a pleasantry or an obligation he’d rather avoid. A hand extended, an offer of easy company to pass through a little more of this unwanted time. Spencer looked up from where his fingers were worrying at the corner of the file in front of him and smiled shyly. Hotch smiled back, a real smile that scrunched up his dark shining eyes.
“Give me five minutes to close up,” he said and turned back toward his office. As he packed his briefcase, his heart felt like it had been wrapped in a soft blanket. He didn’t bother questioning it—who didn’t like finding someone to commiserate with when they’d only expected more of the lonely dark?
*
Their late night meals became a regular occurrence. Not every night but once, maybe twice a week, they found themselves the last ones in the office. They fell into a rhythm, each learning to read more from the other’s subtle cues. They almost always went to the same place, a 24-hour diner near the office with deceptively strong coffee and a seemingly endless variety of pancakes. Hotch rarely ordered food, though he encouraged Reid to get anything he wanted. He accepted bites of whatever the younger man ordered, happy enough to reciprocate the excitement over strawberry rhubarb or cinnamon blueberry pancakes.
They talked about inconsequential things, mostly Hotch listening as Reid spun out information on whatever topic was on his mind that day. Reid, for his part, made mental note of the things Hotch responded to and had opinions on. Spencer sought out more information in that vein to bring up. He loved to talk, sure, but what he loved more was to discuss. During the day there was rarely time to let his thoughts wander so freely. It was a dream to have someone there, following along and challenging him with questions, building up new conclusions.
On the nights that followed difficult days, when they were both too stubborn to order anything of substance, they drank their coffees and avoided looking at each other too directly. Those nights they were both tied up in their own thoughts, islands separated by more than just distance, but there was something undeniably pulling them together. It was probably just the natural consequence of having opposite dominant sides but they mirrored each other perfectly across the table. Once, they both happened to reach for their mugs at the same time and the backs of their hands brushed against each other. They each noticed but responded differently. Hotch repressed any reaction, pretending the quick touch of bony knuckles and cool skin hadn’t registered. Maybe it hadn’t. Reid, on the other hand, jumped as if shocked, sloshing the hot coffee into a puddle on the table. This only flustered him more and he yelped at the sting of the liquid and the sting of embarrassment. It wasn’t like they’d never touched before. But here, in this nowhere time they’d constructed, it felt different. In his mind that brief touch became nails dragging across his skin, impossible to ignore. But he pretended the mug was too hot and Hotch didn’t argue, quick to assist with napkins and sounds of agreement to accompany Spencer’s half-coherent excuses.
When their meals were done, mostly cleaned plates of syrup and crumbs stacked to one side, they hesitated before standing up. Hotch always offered to give Reid a ride home, Reid always declined, insisting he could get there himself. This led to Hotch giving him a doubtful look and insisting that it was no trouble. Reid, secretly wanting a ride the whole time, struggled to argue for his self-sufficiency a little longer before giving in. It became a silly thing, both of them knowing exactly how the argument ended but they held onto it for some reason. It was a part of their ritual now, an important piece of the night. It kept this, whatever this was, contained, strictly occasional, random even. Not something they planned for, not something they looked forward to.
Hotch waited for Spencer to get in the door of his building before driving away. He knew it wasn’t necessary, Spencer was a grown man and a trained FBI agent with a weapon. Still, it made him feel better to see him safely inside. Sometimes he thought he would feel even better if he could walk Spencer all the way to his front door. But he knew that would be asking too much. As it was, the nights when they shared this extra hour or two together, extended further by the drive home, had been giving him more than he could have imagined. He wouldn’t dare impose himself further. The brittle excuse of safety would crumble if he were to start following the other man inside. He was not ready to find out what that would mean. He smiled unconsciously as he drove to his apartment. For now, it was enough that he had found companionship on these late nights when he would otherwise be slowly, meticulously, working his way into the grave.
~Part 2~
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never been in love — single dad!steve (headcannon)
pairing: single dad!steve x teacher!reader
abstract: the one where steve likes you a lot and his daughter does too.
warnings: it gets a lil smutty towards the end (18+) not really tho, this is so much longer than i intended jfc, bucky being kind of a dick, hint of daddy kink, cheating?
[a/n]: this was totally inspired by @marvelouspeterparker post. i read it and it pulled me out of my writers block so thank u ! also this is so unnecessarily long but i have no excuse other than im a hoe for steve rogers??
*** gif isnt mine — i forgot creds srry :/
-ˋˏ ༻✿༺ ˎˊ-
oh god this one is going to hUrt me
but can you just imagine when steve really gets to see you, not just in passing as he picks up his daughter
he nearly shits himself because how in the hell had he not noticed you before?
one any given day, he’s right on time to pick up shai
he’s always punctual
— until today
not only was he late, but he was an hour late and in his mess of mind he was fully convinced they’d never let him bring her to the school again
to make matters even worse his phone had died and his cable was nowhere to be found in his dying, old pick up truck
not to mention his sweet little angel, more than likely frightened out of her mind
— but he was so wrong
practically in a full sprint, he quickly made his way to shai’s classroom when he found her perfectly peaceful while she talked with her teacher
even though, she was facing him and could see him she paid him no mind. it didn’t faze her that her father was so late because you had stayed to keep her company
“well, it looks like he finally decided to show up.” shai spoke to you, loud enough so her father in the doorway could her. the edge in her tone pushing sassy all the way through
of course as soon as shai found her way in steve’s arms he profusely apologized and graciously thanked you for staying with her saying he would repay you for it
— and it definitely had nothing to do with how attracted steve was to you. nope. not at all
you dismissed his gesture, it was a delight to be with shai and you told him such but you had a feeling he wouldn’t let it go
— and he didn’t
the very next day, when he dropped shai off and handed you a dozen pastries he had made fresh this morning
the way you gushed over it, cheekbones high and happy over his kindness made steve’s heart swell
they were still warm and you just couldn’t believe he made these with his bare hands
it was easily the kindest gift anyone ever gave you and you told him that too before you could stop yourself
then he just started bringing you a pastry or two every other day, even if you’d refused them the next day he would bring double the amount he brought the day before
you stopped refusing him bc you already felt guilt since he wouldn’t let you pay for a single one
after two weeks, steve asked you out. you weren’t shocked he had, he had been buttering you up but no matter how charming you thought he was you couldn’t.
he was a parent of one of your students and you just couldn’t allow yourself to go there
it wasn’t necessarily against the rules, but it was frowned upon
accepting your rejection with grace and humility he grabbed shai before bidding you goodbye that day
you thought that was the end of it, until you saw him the following friday night at the bar you frequented at
— alone
you wanted to talk to him, the tequila in your system giving you an irresistible urge to but you were on a date with on of your friends’ coworkers
james buchanan barnes
he definitely was a smooth taker, those dazzling blue eyes sparkling like they knew something you didn’t
you really wanted to be interested, he was a loose shape of a man you’d dream about. maybe you could even pretend he was the one you really wanted
not when steve was sitting at the bar, alone.
but you left that thought behind and you convinced yourself you really were smitten with bucky
two weeks later, bucky and you had been on a few dates and he seemed to like you but you knew you had to end things.
whatever little fling you had going on
your heart got more of kick when steve used to bring you pastries in the morning before class than when bucky kissed you after your first date.
then he asked if you would come to his house, he was having a small get together and would love if you’d be there
— reluctantly, you went
bucky’s friends were nice, each one of them making you feel welcomed into their tight circle.
it turned into a better night than you thought and bucky seemed to be super touchy, guiding you onto his lap as you sat around the fire in his patio
natasha, bucky’s long friend since high school, had you all in fits on the stories from the past
everyone was too busy reeling to recognize his presence but you had the to be blind not to
there steve stood gaping at you’d like you were a ghost, certainly surprised to see you perched on bucky’s lap
yep you wanted to just crawl under a whole a stay there forever
“Glad to see you showed up, punk.” Bucky gesturing for him to make his way over to you, even when you pulled at the sleeve of his henley to stop him.
— of course your efforts to tame bucky in did nothing
he grabbed a cold one before making his way to the two of you
and dear god was it as awkward as ever
“Honey, this is my best friend, Steve.” Honey? He had never called you anything besides your name. By the way he pulled you even closer to him made you think there was something else entirely going on.
you certainly didn’t miss the way steve’s jaw clenched or as he held his right hand picking at the piece of bark rather aggressively
“Um, we actually know each other. Shai is in my class, actually.” Feeling rather suffocated by the weight of Bucky’s arms now that the man you felt too much for was here. “Really? I had no idea.”
steve’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head, infuriated. it wasn’t just that bucky knew you were shai’s teacher but he knew just how much steve liked you.
he didn’t shut up about you since he you with his daughter — something inside him changing in an instance
it wasn’t just that he thought you were the most wonderful woman he’d me — shai also raved over you
shai’s mother leaving a gaping whole in her heart she didn’t quite understand at the age of five was filled by you
you were kind to her, your patience never wearing thin as you gave her the attention she deserved
it may be your job but you enjoyed every moment with her and steve noticed
“Oh? She’s the one you would wake up an hour early for to make the pastries?” Bucky blurted out.
he woke up an early just to make those for you?
the way steve looked at the ground, grinding his fingertip against the label of his beer made you want to cry. his neck flaring pink at the embarrassment only made you wish you were in his arm instead
— even more than you already did
“You really should have seen the smile on his face when he came back from the school gushing over how much you liked what he had made.”
Bucky tightened his arm around your waist before saying. “Or when you reject him, I still can’t decide which is better.”
“That’s enough, James.” You tone harsh, before you ripped yourself away.
you couldn’t even look at steve, you don’t think your heart could handle it so you practically sprinted to your car
you needed to get the fuck out of here
until you reached for you keys, but they weren’t in your pocket
“Looking for these?” His hands looping through your keys giving it a twirl. “Star Wars fan?” Steve gesturing to you baby yoda key chain. “Maybe just a tad.”
“Thank you, Steve.” He tried to ignore the jump you ignited in his heart whenever you said his name.
handing your keys, he turned away from you, heading back into the house until you yanked him forward
the force so strong he though he was going to body slam into you before he pushing his weight against the car.....and you
“I’m sorry about, Bucky. I never would have gone out with him if I knew you two were friends.” You admitted while Steve just stood there looking embarrassed.
god did you always have to ruin everything
“I-I just, um, have these feelings for you. These very complicated feelings that make me want to throw every morally sound thought I have to the wind.”
“Which thought did you want to get rid of right now?” Stepping outside of his comfort zone, Steve grabbed your hands and just on instinct alone you cradled his face like it was the most natural act in the world. Like you had done it a thousand times.
“I mean, for one I’m telling myself I shouldn’t be this close to you.” Steve taking you by surprise as he tilted his head to the side, kissing the palm of your hand.
did he really just-
“What else, sweet girl?”
oh, you really were a goner
“I don’t know.” You spoke softly. Admitting to not only him but yourself — you couldn’t think when he was this close to you.
“Oh, but I think you do.” Steve diving right in as he latched his plump lips to your neck. Making whispers of his name drip off your tongue.
before you register what was happening steve had you pressed up against the car, rough hands gripping your thighs as your legs clinged to his slim waist
not to mention the ratio from his broad shoulders to his hips had your pussy drowning more
making you forget why you’d ever rejected him in the first place and he had hardly even touched you yet
then his lips met yours and you knew he had ruined you for anyone else. no one would ever compare to him and not anyone from your past did.
“Holy shit.” You whispered, completely in awe of what Steve was capable of doing to you in a matter of seconds. The proud smirk he wore in great contrast to what he felt back by the fire when he saw your body entangled with Bucky.
“If I ever see you sitting on my best friend’s lap again, I will go fucking crazy. Do you understand?” Steve eyes burning with envy.
“Yes, Daddy.”
brb gonna cry that i don’t have my very own steve rogers rip
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tags: @tonystankschild @parkastoria @kayteewritessteve
#bc i’m too lazy to actually write this out#maybe one day 🧐👀#steve rogers#steve rogers x reader#steve rogers fluff#steve rogers smut#steve rogers hc#steve rogers headcanon#singe dad!steve#steve rogers au#maritza writes
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His Eyes - Sirius Black
Pairing: Writer!Sirius Black x Reader
Summary: You’re a courtesan in Paris and you meet with a man who you think is a Duke (who is in fact a writer) for a private poetry reading. Moulin Rouge au.
Warnings: mentions of sex, fluff, drinking, 18+??
Words: 1572
Disclaimer: All main characters are 18+
Lyrics/Poetry: Your Song - Elton John
Poetry by Ben Maxfield
A/N: This is my Moulin Rouge au, that I might turn into a fic, how have I only just seen this film?! Pretty sure this au has been done before, I made Slughorn the owner of the Moulin Rogue bc its actually Jim Broadbent in the film so I thought it made sense, you don’t have to watch the movie to understand what’s going on! Hope you guys enjoy and please let me know what you think, I love you all! xxx
Montmartre, Paris 1899
Even from the inside of the dressing room, you could hear the crowds raging in the stuffy smelly night club in Montmartre, Paris. Sighing at your reflection in the mirror, you forced out a smile as you painted your lips, you had to appear happy but it wasn’t working much. You rolled your eyes and took another sip of Absinthe, coughing and spluttering at the strong taste of the green liquid; you should have been used to it by now.
Lily, your fellow cabaret dancer and courtesan laughed as she ran a comb through her fiery red hair, “how are you feeling about tonight?” she asked as the nerves swarmed in your stomach.
Unfortunately, you were the most popular dancer at the Moulin Rouge so the dallying with important men always fell to you. A Duke –who you didn’t even know the name of, he was just The Duke – was going to be in attendance tonight. The plan was for you to bed him so he could invest in the Moulin Rouge and turn it into a proper theatre. You were nervous to have to bed a man that you’d never met before; you had no idea what he was like.
“Nervous,” you admitted with a laugh.
Lily nodded understandingly, “you’re the only one who can do this,” she offered you a small warm smile that did nothing to quell the nerves, “come on, I think your crowd awaits,” she laughed.
You sucked in a nervous breath as you stood up, downing the rest of the Absinthe as you stood up, adding the finishing touches to your makeup and ridiculously sheer costume. You descended from the ceiling on a trapeze, hardly hearing the whoops and cheers below as the spotlight followed you down.
You scanned the enormous room to try and guess who The Duke could be; your eyes lingered on a handsome dark haired young man who was sitting with Lupin and Potter who were trying to set up a show. As you reached the floor you plastered the smile on your face that made men fall in love with you. You danced with multiple partners, letting them touch you just enough to keep the money coming.
As your performance reached its climax you danced your way over to the Moulin Rouge owner, using the dance as a ruse to speak to him about The Duke. Horace Slughorn was more of a father figure to you than a boss, you’d be dead if it wasn’t for him, “Is the Duke here?” you hissed.
Slughorn looked over your shoulder, a smile spreading across his pudgy face as he saw the man with his long blonde hair. Unbeknownst to you, Lucius Malfoy was watching you dance with a hungry look in his cold eyes. The smile slipped from Slughorn’s face as he watched Pettigrew spill a glass of Absinthe all over Malfoy, staining his pristine white shirt green.
“He’s here.”
“Which one is he?” you asked as you swapped places with Slughorn, scanning the sea of people.
“The one Pettigrew just spilt a glass of Absinthe over.”
You squinted as you glanced over to where Pettigrew was sitting with his friends. Pettigrew picked up an empty glass and was speaking into the ear of the handsome dark haired man. You completely missed the annoyed looking man with a stained green shirt. You gasped as you felt blood rise to your cheeks, “that’s him?”
He was so handsome that this was going to be easy, you were going to be an actress one day, and it was easy to trick men into falling in love with you. Men believed what they wanted to; you would never fall in love that was for certain. After your performance you sauntered over to the man who you thought was The Duke, though unbeknownst to you, his name was Sirius.
Your hands were on your hips as you stood in front of him. Potter let out a long wolf whistle, making you glare at him before you reverted your attention back to The Duke. Sirius visibly gulped as he looked up at you and you noticed just how pretty his eyes were. The perfect stormy grey colour, framed by thick lashes.
A flush spread across his cheekbones as you placed two fingers beneath his chin, “I believe you’ve been expecting me?” you made your voice breathy as you pouted your lips and fluttered your eye lashes at him.
“Yes,” he muttered, making you grin as you took his hand, blowing a kiss to Potter, Lupin and Pettigrew as you pulled The Duke over to the dancefloor. The real Duke, Lucius Malfoy watched you with an incredulous look on his face.
As you danced with the gorgeous man he told you that James had arranged a secret ‘poetry reading,’ that was a euphemism if you ever heard one. You rolled your eyes, you were going to murder Potter, he’d been pestering you to take part in the show.
“Meet me in the Elephant room, handsome,” you pressed a kiss to the column of his throat as you tugged at his hair, smirking when you heard a groan catch in the back of his throat, “I need to freshen up,” you shot him a coy glance over your shoulder as you retired to the dressing room.
You decided to unpin your hair so it fell naturally and you changed into a corset with stockings and you draped a thin covering of sheer silk on top. Now that you had met Sirius you weren’t nervous about what you had to do, he was just another client, albeit a devastatingly rich client. The Duke was standing at the window, looking at the city below, even from behind you could tell that he was tense. What did such an important man have to worry about?
As the door closed behind you, Sirius jumped and turned to face you. His grey eyes scanned your body, taking in every curve and dip with the ghost of a smirk on his face, contrasting with his nervous body language.
“Is this poetic enough for you?” you laughed with a wink as you sashayed your way across the room and wrapped your arms around his neck.
“Y/N, what,” he began to ask as you pulled him into a fiery kiss, you wanted to get this over and done with. Sirius hesitantly kissed you back, wrapping his arms around you, bunching his hands in the thin silk.
When you pulled away, Sirius opened his mouth to say something but you stopped him by placing a finger over his plump lips, “no more talking,” you whispered, “let’s make love,” you pushed towards the bed, making him gasp in pleasure. With a smirk, you opened his shirt and straddled his waist.
“Y/N, wait,” he looked at you through lust filled eyes and he wrapped a gentle hand around your wrist to stop you from taking his pants off. You looked down at him with wide eyes, “I want to, God, I want to but I’m here for a poetry reading. I’m so interested in the show,” he moved out from beneath you and got off the bed.
You narrowed your eyes at him, The Duke was here to bed you, so what was he playing at? This whole poetry thing must have been a euphemism. You reclined back on the silk pillows and poured yourself a glass of champagne. You raised an eyebrow as you took a sip, the bubbles tickling your nose.
“Well please; go on with your poetry.”
The Duke gave you an appreciative glance as he began pacing the length of the room, muttering to himself and you quickly realised that he really wanted to do a poetry reading, “it’s a little bit funny, this feeling inside…” he trailed off as you pulled a confused face and he sighed. You strangely found this whole situation endearing but this was a waste of your time.
“Your eyes are the sweetest that I’ve ever seen,” you scoffed and giggled at his words as he sat beside you on the bed, looking slightly more confident. His stormy grey eyes that should have looked cold were warm as he looked at you, “how rare it is to find someone whose eyes shine brighter than the stars,” he smiled and that was the moment that you were rendered speechless as he performed his poetry.
The beautiful words spilling from his lips caressed you like a kiss and you unashamedly gazed at his lips. It was hard to believe that he was performing poetry he had already written, and it wasn’t about you. Maybe this whole acting thing would be harder than you anticipated as you looked into his handsome face and counted the freckles sprinkled across his nose.
Sirius’ voice was as smooth as honey, “I hope you don’t mind, I hope you don’t mind, that I put down in words, how wonderful life is while you’re in the world,” he grinned as his thumb stroked against your jaw and you couldn’t help but smile back.
“Oh,” you breathed, pulling out your acting skills as you wrapped your arms around his neck as he dipped you slightly on the bed, his lips an inch from yours, “I never thought that a Duke could have such a way with words.”
“A Duke?” he scoffed as he grinned down at you, “I’m not a Duke.”
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@smiithys @elayneblack @amelie-black @fandomxreaders
#sirius#sirius black#sirius orion black#padfoot#pads#moony wormtail padfoot and prongs#sirius black one shot#sirius black imagine#sirius black fluff#sirius black au#marauders au#the marauders au#harry potter au#movie au#moulin rouge au#sirius black x reader#Sirius Black x reader insert#sirius black x y/n#sirius black x you#you x sirius black#sirius x reader#sirius x reader insert#sirius x you#sirius x y/n#you x sirius#lily evans#james potter#remus lupin#peter pettigrew#horace slughorn
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i just want a soft spencer moment where he gives me his fbi jacket bc im cold. like i dont even ask for it, he just shrugs it off and puts it over my shoulders
Please-
She loves wearing his clothes.
She sleeps in one of his t-shirts and she’s always nicking jumpers and sweaters from his wardrobe when she stays over at his place because his apartment was never warm enough for her, she wears his button-downs when its the first piece of clothing she can find on the floor after they’d shagged all night and she has a tendency to nick his socks because her feet are always cold and hers were too thin to keep the chills from her toes. When she stayed at his apartment, all she wanted to do was wear his clothes and it never bothered him that he had to do more of his own laundry than normal because it meant he got to see her in an attire that made her look comfortable and so tiny and sweet.
Because he’s a sucker for seeing her in his clothes.
The way they hang down her frame so loosely, the way the sleeves cover her hands, the way every colour complimented her and looked better on her than it did on him and it never ceased to bring a pinch to his heart when she snuggles a little deeper into the material he had once worn. The smell of his cologne still lingering within the cotton or the wool that dressed her figure... almost like it was a constant hug she was receiving from him.
So it’s no surprise to him when he sees her wearing his coat whilst they work on a case in bad weather and it’s definitely no surprise when he walks on the jet and sees his FBI jacket hanging down her shoulders whilst hers draped over the arm of the chair beside her. All the jackets that the agents owned were all the same colour and they all looked the same, with the same bold and yellow print letters on the back, but he knew it was his because of the sleeves that were baggy and loose and long down the length of her arms; he couldn’t see the entire palm of the hand holding the book she was reading.
He had shrugged it off moments before they boarded the jet, passing it to YN as she clambered the steps and made her way into the warmth of the jet that was ready for take-off and awaiting the team to board and get comfy in their seats, and she took that as her opportunity - not even an opportunity but a suggestion from him -
“You know, you have to start wearing your own clothes. I’ve only got a limited amount,” he sits down beside her and takes a nosey at the book she was in the middle of reading, a smile perking her lips and bringing out the curve of her cheekbones, “what if I needed my jacket? I didn’t say you could wear it when I gave it to you.”
“You could wear mine.”
“Yours? The sleeves would barely reach my elbows and it’d be like a second layer of skin on me with how tight it would be,” he snorts and she giggles at him softly, closing her book up and setting it on the table, freeing her hands so she could adjust the sleeves and cover her hands even more, “might as well just ask the bureau for another one in my size.”
“But then you wouldn’t be wearing this one,” she snuggles a little deeper into the seat and into the material, the collar covering her jawline as she sank down and curled her fingers around the hems of the sleeves, “it smells like you and if you didn’t wear it anymore then it wouldn’t smell like you anymore.”
He nods knowingly, and it’s slow and rather exaggerated, and there are heavy footsteps that echo round the empty jet as the rest of the team boarded and got themselves situated; Morgan and JJ seating themselves opposite Spencer and YN, Hotch sitting behind with Rossi and Prentiss taking comfort on the sofa.
“Don’t go complaining about how good she looks,” Morgan laughs, looking YN in the eyes and grinning, “she’s stylish.”
“Stylish when YN wears it but I look ridiculous?” Spencer questions and he lets an arm slide around her shoulders, her legs kick up and bend so she could sit a little more comfortably when leaning into his side and sliding an arm around his waist, hand hiding underneath the untucked shirt on his upper body, “how does that work?”
“I never said ridiculous, Reid. I just said you could better your clothing range,” he admits and Spencer rolls his eyes, YN giggles and JJ just sits there with an amused smile on her face as the two men bicker amongst themselves, “not ridiculous.”
“It’s the same thing, Morgan.” xx
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SAKURASOU (T.OIKAWA)
pairing: oikawa tooru x fem!reader
synopsis: oikawa’s life has never been void of love and affection, that of his fans and admirers—but never has he known love from the one he truly wants.
word count: 1.0k
genre: hanahaki au, unrequited love, one-sided pining, angst
warnings: blood, terminal illness, mentions of death
notes: this was an impulse write and i don’t know why i did it bc i have like fifty other things to write first asjdkl. anyways pls enjoy, this is my application for haikyuu tumblr
↳ DIRECTORY
Ethereal.
Y/N simply was. She was absolutely, breathtakingly, the physical embodiment of perfection in Oikawa’s mind. There was truly no other like her, no single person that could possibly touch the ground she walked upon.
There was something about her, something that kept his attention. An unknown variable that surprised him every day, forcing him to attach himself at her hip, the pain in his chest raging on for another storm.
He’d been diagnosed with Hanahaki at a young age, that being twelve. The same age in which he’d met Y/N. A much simpler time, one of soft smiles and sprints through the empty streets of Miyagi.
It was a time where he was happy, completely and unequivocally happy.
Where he hadn’t had to worry about the small, dainty petals stemming from his heart. The petals that had grown over the years, callusing the inner skin of his throat, escaping his body through coughing fits and blood.
They’d started off as morsels, leaves barely the size of the tip of his pinky. At first, it hadn’t been a bother—it was well known that the disease was very real, it being the cause of literal heartbreak.
But as the years went on, the flowers became more serious. Larger. Rougher. Light grunts became gasps for air, desperate inhales for a taste of oxygen through the thick stems and leaves.
And though he was in immense pain, Oikawa couldn’t imagine leaving behind his love for Y/N. She was his rock, the person who gave him stability and comfort—she supported him as if she, herself, were his legs.
There were two passions in his life. Two things that dictated his moves, the direction his compass was led. Two entities that could make or break his soul—Y/N and his own pride.
His own pride that had hidden his feelings for five years. The characteristic that had huddled him into his own corner, berated him, abused him, criticized him when all he had to do was speak his confession into existence.
The confession that he’d finally chosen to say now, at his absolute wits end.
“I love you.” He breathed out, the blood rushing from his lips, dripping down his chin, leaving droplets on his white sneakers. Red encased his vision, though Oikawa wasn’t sure if it was the shade of love or pain.
His body collapsed against the wall, the pounding of his heart beating louder and louder. He couldn’t tell the sound was drowning out his cries, or Y/N’s hysterical sobs.
She was across from him, her knees pulled to her chest, eyes in her palms. Tears ran like rivers flowing down the canals of her cheekbones, not overshadowing her beauty, but making it sorrowful rather than enlightened.
The aura of the room was dark, a deafening break from their usual playful banter.
And it wasn’t Oikawa’s fault. It couldn’t possibly be. How was he supposed to know that she herself suffered from Hanahaki? How was he supposed to react to the news that she felt the same unrequited love he did?
How was he supposed to feel when she retaliated his confession with a confession of her own? That being of her buried feelings for his best friend, the best friend that failed to return Y/N’s perfect love.
He was a fool.
How had he failed to notice the stolen glances, the hidden smiles, the bitter laughs she’d let out whenever Iwa would have a new girlfriend, new lover, new fling.
Oikawa was a master of observation, yet he hadn’t been able to see the most obvious matter of all. He hadn’t been able to deduce that Y/N, his heart, was in love with the man he’d always wanted to be.
“I’m sorry, Tooru.” She sobbed, specks of scarlet splattering onto her white sweater, blossoms of primroses covering the hardwood floor. “I want to love you, I do! But I just can’t.”
“And I don’t think I ever will.”
The fits grew louder, cries and coughs forcing them into their own isolation. The two single lovers never having felt so alone in their entire lives, although there were merely three feet between them.
One step, one second was all it would take for Oikawa to reach her. Touch her, hold her as she broke down. It was his nature to want to help her, guide her to reach her goal and cheer her on when she’d present it in her hands.
But he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t help her find her own happiness if it meant that his would die forever. Love was meant to be shared, not selected through selfishness and greed.
So instead of sitting by her side, instead of doing the very thing that he’d promised he’d do for every second of their lives—Oikawa held back. He refused to mediate the situation, help her ease her pain.
His eyes dropped to the floor, the sight of his bloody shoes bringing him disgust and distaste. Red soaked into the soles of his feet, seeping into his skin, feeding the disease he’d been cursed with—the disease of love.
In the west, a primrose would denote an everlasting bond, that of warmth and unconditional feelings that would undoubtedly end in a diamond ring—but here, in his lonesome bedroom, the sakuraso didn’t mean any of that.
A happily ever after wasn’t in their future. The pages in their book had come to an end, the final chapter was upon them—and yet, Oikawa didn’t want to turn the page. He didn’t want to say goodbye.
Perhaps he’d love her forever. Perhaps he’d endure the pain for the entirety of his life, just so he’d have a memory of Y/N, a memory of the joy she’d once brought him.
Y/N was his unknown variable, the unexpected thing that he couldn’t predict—but the sakuraso? That was his constant, the blossom that he’d live with forever as his stubbornness was imminent.
He’d choose the blood, the anguish, the familiar white petals every day if it meant that she was still there. No matter how she felt, who she loved, Oikawa would choose her.
—after all, she was worth it right?
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